Some Things Don't Need To Be Said
by ZaraCalico
Summary: 'We were meant to meet afterwards, clink glasses together, thank the gods that we had survived long enough to have a drink together, but when I went to our meeting place, I was greeted by only 3 sets of eyes.' With Duo missing and the guys in chains, who really is safe? TrowaxQuatre, DuoxWufei, Duox? Angst/drama/suspense - and, eventually, romance. Contains some violence.
1. SURPRISE!

My ramblings -

_Whoa, it's been a while since I've written a fanfiction, but I had a small bit of inspiration hit me as I was doing a drawing of Maxwell today. _

_Currently, I am looking for a proof reader as I tend not to be very good at things like tenses, so if you're interested please contact me. I'll pay you in drawings if you would like (:_

_I obviously don't own Gundam Wing (I'm not sure if I even have to write that these days!) but I just love them boys and have done for over 13 years now. I still watch the episodes, I still get doujinshi and official books... I'm an otaku, through and through. _

_Warnings You know what, in this day and age, I don't expect to have to put someone being gay as a 'warning'. This has gay men in it. So far, it doesn't have gay sex. But the men are gay. They like other men. This isn't a warning - this is a fact. If this fic ends up containing any sort of sexual scenes, I will put a warning, but I would also if it was for straight sex - it's just because some people are too young or are sensitive to sex scenes. _

_I expect this to be an angst-y fic, with some drama and suspense thrown in. It has one typical pairing - Burton and Winner - and one less typical pairing, Wufei and Maxwell. And maybe, just maybe, Maxwell and Yuy have found themselves in some tight, hot spots during the war... _

_I haven't decided on who will be 'tortured', and if that will be literal or mental, and there is no blood or even swearing in this first chapter, so it's safe for everyone. This rating may change later on. _

_Anyway! Enjoy Chapter 1 - SURPRISE!_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 1 - SURPRISE!**

He had been missing for 3 years.

3 long years, after the war ended.

Sure, I had that brief glimpse of him at a celebration for the end of the war, before I found out the ramifications of being a pilot in battle. I had been across the room, toasting with someone I can't even remember now when I saw the flick of a braid from behind one of the long tables. He was slinking, skirting even, already trying to hide himself away from the curious eyes of the higher class public who had been invited to the soiree.

We waited as long as it seemed suitable. Burton, using his height as an advantage, went looking for Maxwell, but reported he was nowhere to be seen. Sure, Peacecraft's palace was big, but there were only certain places people were allowed - in other areas, Burton reported he was met with locked doors. If we had only thought about the pilot's unique ability to pick locks - and then lock the door behind himself again. But we were all tipsy from the drinks we had been consuming; even though we were not old enough. Then again, if we were old enough to go to war and to die, then we were more than old enough for a celebration drink, at least that was what Burton muttered as he gave up the search. It was fine, we all decided. We had awkward but honest plans to meet up in the future.

If only we had known then that fate had other plans for us. Well, not fate. More like courts and laws and officials staring down at us. When the party was over, once the celebrations were done and we were all about to go our separate ways, standing in the hallway exchanging muted and awkward goodbyes, the front door was suddenly smashed in. They could have used the doorbell, but these guys had a new power, and they clearly wanted to use it. They stood in the hallway, wearing a navy blue uniform and some sort of badge - these guys were alien to us, the uniforms unfamiliar and their glares unfriendly.

We were instantly on high alert - actually, we were always on high alert. We all reached for our guns, and Yuy had his instantly trained on the man he considered the most threat - the guy holding the big metal object they had used to force the door in. With the war over, maybe we were half expecting calm talking and no force - but within seconds, four guys were on Yuy, forcing him to the ground and sending the gun spinning out of his hand. Winner was the first to re-holster his weapon and put his hands up, and the guys were a little less forceful with him, with only two disarming him and forcing his hands behind his back. I heard Burton growl and move over to Winner when they tugged a little hard on his arm and he cried out - that set four men on the circus performer, who was obviously considered a threat even though he had dropped his gun on the floor the second Yuy was taken over. I dropped my gun too, even though it felt alien not to put it back in its holster, and I too was treated to only two men forcing my arms behind my back - and my wrists into handcuffs.

"Where are you taking us?" Yuy demanded, now standing but struggling against the four men who were trying to hold him still. "What do you want?" It suddenly struck me then that the house alarm hadn't gone off, and none of the palace staff had come out to see what the noise was about. Struggling slightly, I managed to tilt my head and I saw Peacecraft on the spiral staircase. She was dressed in more casual clothing then I had seen during the war and the subsequent celebrations, but she kept her regal stance, as I had always seen on her. I expected her to be running down the stairs and screaming that this was a huge mistake, but she just stood there. The expression on her face was darker than I had seen before, her face turned down into a small scowl - if I hadn't spent a couple of weeks seeing her every day I could have mistaken it for something blank, but there was definitely something there. Something dark.

The men in their fancy uniforms said nothing. They had managed to force handcuffs onto both Yuy and Burton, even though it took four men for each of them. If Maxwell was there, then maybe he would be able to fish a hairpin out of his hair and pick the lock - but Maxwell wasn't there. Maxwell hadn't been here for weeks. Maxwell had stuck to his word, and decided to run and hide rather than be here. For a moment, even as I was shoved forward and forced to walk towards the broken doorway, I couldn't help but to be glad Maxwell wasn't there. 'Wherever he is, it had to be better than this,' I thought as I glanced back and saw Yuy struggling like mad and Burton trying to walk close to Winner, who had his head bowed and, like me, only two guards on him.

'Thank the gods Maxwell isn't here. I don't know where we're going, but it's not good. But wherever he is, it's not here, it's not in cuffs, he's safe.'

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	2. So Much for Hopes and Wishes

My ramblings -

_Hi! I'm still full of inspiration but I'm still looking for a proof-reader, too. I'm also working on art for this fic in particular, and will add it or link to it when it is done. For now I've used some random GW pictures for this and my avatar. _

_I don't own Gundam Wing, I just love it. _

_Non-warning - Hey, so this still contains gay guys (= It's not present yet, however, and neither is blood, violence or swearing, so it's still suitable for anyone. _

_This is about Duo; I've decided to do it in third person rather than first person, because it reads slightly better when I experimented either. Wufei will be in first person - if I ever need to be the other guys, they will also be in third person. I really want this fic to concentrate on developing Wufei from the uptight, Duo-disliking person he is in Gundam Wing, into someone who is actually in love with Duo and all his manic tendencies. _

_Anyway, please enjoy chapter 2! _

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 2 - So Much for Hopes and Wishes**

Handcuffs

Anklecuffs.

Pain in his head.

Running and hiding had only got him so far, after all. It had normally got him everywhere in life - it helped him survive as a kid and he had few street smarts, then it helped him to learn when situations weren't safe in Maxwell Church, even if he did get a telling off after leaving, and finally it helped him become a pilot, even if it wasn't his goal.

Now, he could barely drag himself across the small holding pen to the bars. Despite the disorientating pain in his head, he couldn't help but to think how cliche this all was - it was cold, it was poorly lit, it was probably a basement, and he had a pot to piss in. He gave a short laugh at all of this, and then another laugh at the fact he could somehow find this funny. What else did he expect but the norm, but the prisons he had become used to from the war and the basements from when he was nothing but street trash.

He reached the bars and experimentally hit the cuffs against them. The sound rang out and no-one came running - that wasn't always a good sign. His mind drifted to something he had once read in a paper, in a safe house that had no electricity, about two kids who had died when their pedophile guard had been taken to prison on an unrelated charge. The noise had been quite loud, and if no-one came running, and the room was small enough for him to see there was no-one sitting there either, he could be alone. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, either.

He had hazy memories of the blow to his head - a baseball bat, maybe. Something long, for sure. Down an alleyway - again, how cliche! - and the blow had come hard when someone had asked him for change for the bus and he was fumbling in his pocket. He remembered staying conscious for a short while - he had been a Gundam Wing pilot after all, he was used to slamming his head around in the cockpit - and realizing they weren't trying to mug him. Both of them, the man asking for change and his attacker, were staring at him, that was all. No mugging, no tugging at his clothes; it was confusing, and he thought maybe he said something like that and one of the men - increasingly blurry - smirked.

He didn't recognize the guys, he knew that much. They weren't friends or enemies he knew of - but he also knew a lot of the universe wasn't keen on the pilots. There had been mumbling of them all being arrested for war crimes and, if he was honest, that was why he had bailed during the celebration party. It had been hard enough, dealing with the hateful and sometimes pitying looks from the guests, but even harder to know he was going to lose his friends.

Sure, they had a couple of weeks of staying in the palace. Sure, they had plans to meet up after the party, and he was sure the latter would happen, but what beyond that? The plans were so half-hearted because no-one knew where they were going, not truly. Heero - the Preventers, maybe. Quatre had his father's company to run. Trowa was speaking of going back to the circus, but it was clear from a million miles away that he intended to go wherever Quatre was, and mumbling his plan was just an excuse to try in vain to hide their relationship. Duo had no idea why - the war was over, and most people would give their left arm to be in such a loving, intense relationship. But they were both private people who had revealed more than they wanted to during the war - he was sure they didn't want to see trashy newspapers covered in photos of them together. And Wufei? He was harder to tell. He had no home to go to, and his plans always seemed to vary - there was a mention of studying in England, and then Heero invited him to join the Preventers too, but Wufei seemed less keen than Duo had thought he would be.

Duo didn't know where he was going to be. He didn't know if he would see his friends again. He didn't know if he would end up in chains in front of a judge - a thought that made him laugh hollowly again - but he knew he was in no control being stuck in the palace and about to lose his friends. He wasn't sure which was the biggest motivator to run away from it all; he had been drinking quite a lot that evening, but he knew it made sense. He remembered sneaking into a private room and -

Ow.

He squinted against the pain in his head, knowing that trying to remember may help. If he had a concussion, he didn't want to go to sleep, and trying to put together the puzzle pieces that had lead to this situation may give him clues to his imprisonment. How had he got into a private room? Relena said she was going to keep them locked during such functions. Oh, of course! He had just reached into his hair, and...

A hairpin! He must have a hairpin. He awkwardly groped at his hair - he normally had at least 50 of the things in, keeping his hair in place - and realized, with dull surprise, that his hair was unbraided and knotted. There was some blood in it too, but it was dried and clotted - at least he didn't have to worry about blood loss. Though now, oddly, despite this situation, he found himself worrying about the state of his hair. If the guys could see him now - he didn't think any of them had seen him with his hair down. So whoever had dealt with him and stuck him in this cell was aware enough that he could use the hairpins to pick the locks, and had taken however long to unbraid it and remove every pin, as far as he could tell. He was sure they hadn't been gentle, but he didn't remember it. If he had been out for so long though, chances were he wouldn't have woken up unaided - anything over 5 minutes, especially with a head injury, was potential for severe brain damage. They must have force fed him a pill, or...

He checked his arms and saw one pinprick in his right arm, and two in his left. They had obviously injected him with some sort of sedative, and god knows what else - he could have been out for days. It was impossible to tell even the time of day, let alone when it was. He shook his head, shaking away the slightly woozy feeling. No sleeping, just in case. No sleeping, because he wanted to be awake next time they checked on him, wanted to ask questions - assuming they were still there.

During the party, he snuck up to the second floor under pretense of going to the bathroom, not that he felt anyone really cared where he went. There was a room where they had all dumped their luggage, knowing it was going to be sorted out when they were assigned their separate rooms (and after all the buddying up in the war, Duo knew he couldn't sleep alone, and he was sure Quatre would be using that excuse too) and it was locked. He had reached into his hair and easily found a hairpin, twisting it into the unique shape it needed to be to unlock the door. After a few twists and turns, the lock snapped open and he let himself in, shutting and locking the door behind himself.

He took a breath and shook his arms a little. He was so uncomfortable in this formal suit that he had been fitted for - at Relena's expense of course - and it just wasn't him. It wasn't even black; the jacket and pants were navy blue, the shirt white. The only thing he liked was the red tie, it was the only bit that was 'him'.

He may not have liked Relena but he wasn't a dickhead either - he grabbed a hanger from the closet in the room and hung up the suit on it. He was down to his purple silk underpants - again, thanks to Relena, although this was from 'pocket money' rather than her personally seeing to it - when he heard someone try the door. He froze, and instantly moved to the closet, which was empty apart from some hangers and his suit, shutting the door behind himself. He didn't know why - no-one had a reason to come here, no-one had a key apart from Relena and the staff, and they were all busy at the party.

To his relief, after a jiggle or two they stopped trying, and Duo snuck out again. He found his old duffel bag and retrieved a standard black t-shirt from there, and a pair of jeans that he had bought recently. Hesitantly, he put the tie in his bag, because he just wanted one memory from when everyone was celebrating their achievements. His fingers groped at the priest dog collar, before he decided it would stick out a mile. Besides, he had the Maxwell cross on under his t-shirt, pressed firmly against his ribcage. He grabbed that old cap instead, the hat that had got him through the thick and thin of the war, and snaked his braid under his top and into his pants, before stuffing as much hair as possible in his hat. He looked less conspicuous hiding his trademark hair - it was the one thing that could be recognised if he was seen running away. Dressed and more comfy than he had been in hours, he finished tying his military-style boots and he contemplated how to leave. It wasn't going to be as easy as sneaking in here. Someone was bound to notice one of the 'guests of honor' leaving, especially in scruffy clothes and carrying a beat up bag - or think he was a burglar, at best.

The front door was out of the question, but hell, he was only two floors up. He knew that the rooms with windows facing the way he needed to escape were locked, so he wouldn't be seen that way, and it was raining so the party hadn't been taken outside. He was lucky in so many ways just then. He looked around the room and found Heero's duffel, which was more beat up than his own - unusual, but he guessed Heero couldn't polish and shine his bag like he did his boots. It was so beat up that the string holding it together was loose and hung lower than it should do - when Heero carried the bag over his shoulder, it banged on the back of his ankles. So far, he had refused to accept money from Relena for a new one, but Duo had suspected he would do before he left. Assuming Heero left - Duo had a weird suspicion that him and Relena would end up together, but there were few clues there.

He opened the window with ease, dropping his bag out onto the ground, not minding the damp grass. The bag had been through worse. He carefully caught Heero's heavy bag under the windowsill so the string dangled out. It hung about halfway down the first floor, and Duo grinned. Jumping the rest would be fine. He took one more look around at how fancy even the store area was, and then carefully climbed out of the window, using the rope to lower himself down, being careful not to tug Heero's bag out at the same time. When he got to the end of the rope, he prepared himself and let go, landing with a roll. Trowa had taught him a lot about falling without hurting himself - not that he ever had - and it certainly came in useful when the jump could have twisted his ankle and put an end to certainly running, if not hiding as well.

He was covered in grass as he finished his roll and crawled back to his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. It wasn't the most hidden running away he had ever done - they would see exactly what he had done, but no-one would come looking for him. Why would they? He was under no obligation to stay with Relena, it was just slipping out of the party that was taboo. But he couldn't bare a second of judgment.

Duo believed he had gotten out unseen and unknown. What he hadn't seen was the man standing in the rain, in fancy clothes like everyone else, smoking a cigarette. Even if he had seen him, he probably wouldn't have given him a second thought anyway - he hardly cared what some high class poof thought of him, though he would have loved the idea of Relena running after him in her poofy dress and high heels if the man 'told' on him.

He took a shaky breath. He had come back home, of course. L2. It was all he had known, all he had wanted to know. It hadn't been hard to settle back into life, but he had only had the chance to do that for three days before the attack that bought him here. He hit his cuffs against the bars again. This time, he hoped someone would come. He suddenly realized his mouth was so dry - probably a side effect of the injections - and he was desperate for a drink. There was nothing in sight, not even a degrading bowl to drink from as he had to deal with when he had been imprisoned before.

The bars rang out and he suddenly realized their thickness and strength. He had never been in a real prison, but he imagined the bars were comparable. There was no easy escape from here. If his hands were free maybe he could fit one skinny arm through the bars, but there was nothing to reach for anyway, it was pointless.

Duo bowed his head. For the first time in his life, he felt truly trapped, and truly hopeless. For the first time in his life, he really wished he hadn't run away. If he had just put up with Relena for two weeks, he would have been with his friends for two weeks - maybe more if he could have harassed one of them into a house share or something. Now he was hopelessly alone, in the dark and the cold.

He only raised his head when the basement - he was almost certain it was a basement now - door opened, and light came through bright enough for him to cover his eyes. His head throbbed and his heart throbbed too - maybe this was where the real torture would begin...

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	3. A Shocking Turn of Events

My ramblings-

_Back to Wufei's perspective!_

_The timeline jumps back and forth a little, so be prepared for that. So far in Duo's world, he escaped from the palace on the night of the party, made it to L2 the next day, and was there for 3 days before his unexpected capture._

_The rest of the team stayed at the palace for two weeks after the party before they were captured, and this chapter takes place two weeks into them being (practically) imprisoned. _

_There is a reason for this, and obviously both plotlines will meet in the future._

_I also realized that in chapter 1, Wufei was acting a little out of character as he was referring to the pilots with their first names, which is quite unlike him! I won't go back and change it - I'm happy living with a minor mistake - but in this chapter, and until his character develops, he will be referring to the other pilots by their surnames._

_Same warnings as before - *gasp* Some boys like other boys! Apart from that, there's no swearing or blood in this chapter, though there is some gore-less violence. _

_So sit back and enjoy chapter 3!_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 3 - A Shocking Turn of Events**

"How are they treating you?"

I looked up from the book I had been reading, lowering my reading glasses down and looking at Winner. He was going around asking everyone that, and I couldn't work out if it was a fear that he would end up being treated poorly, or genuine concern for us. After all, didn't he have that empathy thing he had displayed during the war - he could tell how we were, at least on an emotional level.

I realized I had kept him waiting a little longer than I should have done, and I awkwardly cleared my throat. "Fine. They're treating me fine."

What else could be said? We were two weeks into being kept in a cramped house that was reminiscent of one of the safe houses during the war. We shared two bedrooms between the four of us - myself with Yuy, Burton and Winner together, of course. I wasn't sure who did the intel on us, but it seemed that they wouldn't put Burton and Winner together if they knew of their relationship. Not that it was my business, but I doubted they were able to do anything. Between 7pm and 8am we were locked in the bedrooms, and there were guards on the doors - they only let us out to use the bathroom.

During the day we had free roam of the house - a small living room, an equally small kitchen, a bathroom with a shower and a toilet, and nothing else. We weren't allowed outside, not even with the guards. It was the closest thing to prison that wasn't prison. We were allowed books, the living room had a TV that had select channels (no news, nothing political, nothing that gave us any idea what was happening outside those four walls) and there were a few board games, including chess.

No-one was telling us anything, that was what was annoying me the most. The guards rarely spoke apart from to snap our surnames at us if we were defiant in any way, which we were, at first. Winner had reverted back into his timid self and hung back, but me, Burton and Yuy took a stand at first. We had survived a war - no-one was telling us when to go to bed and when we could use the bathroom.

The guards had guns, but so far they hadn't reached for them - I had a feeling that their orders, wherever they came from, were to keep us alive at all costs. I'm sure the guns were there for if we somehow escaped, and even then I believed they would target our legs. So when we made our stand, they didn't reach for their guns. The four of them - effectively, we had one guard each, on a rolling three person shift as far as I could tell; they wore helmets all the time, so we couldn't see their faces, and - I assume - so if we suddenly launched some attack they wouldn't be knocked out.

Instead of reaching for their guns, they reached to the other side of the belt. We tensed. We were prepared for pepper spray - various training had built up some immunity to the chemicals in the spray, so it would hurt, but it wouldn't be as effective as on a civilian. But it wasn't pepper spray - it was a taser, trained on each of us, even Winner. Winner had no wish to be involved in our planned attack, but he also couldn't bare to leave Burton, so, as far as the guards were concerned, he was a threat too.

When the tasers hit us, it was immense and crippling pain. We had training against tasers too but they must have turned up the power, because even Yuy, the perfect soldier, the one who had been trained since he was 6 years old, seized up with the pain. Winner was the first to fall and then, to my shame, it was me. All my muscles tensed at once and I couldn't move, my heart was racing. Burton fell and tried to crawl to Winner, despite the visibly spasming muscles, and this caused another taser shot at him. Burton's head bowed and I'm pretty sure he passed out, though he never admitted it. All Winner could do was watch, and I saw the tears in his eyes. I managed to turn my face away, to give him some sense of privacy, and I was lucky not to get another shot just for moving. Yuy, of course, was the last to fall, and even then he seemed less affected than the rest of us.

Like infants, we had to be carried to our bedrooms, though we were dumped on our beds rather than given any respect. I felt all my dignity go down the drain that night. I vowed to myself to not take part in any more attempts to fight against the guards - not unless we had a secure escape plan and we could leave for sure. I watched Yuy be dropped onto the bed too, and then heard the door lock. I was still in pain, but I could finally move, and I could finally move into a more comfortable position that allowed me to relax against the pain.

It took nearly half an hour of meditation, lying on my bed, eyes closed, unable to sit in lotus as I normally did, before I could focus my brain and ignore the pain. I opened my eyes and looked over to Yuy. He seemed to be shaking off the worst of it too, though his choice was the opposite of mine - I had heard him get up around 15 minutes after the door locked, and he was doing stretches on the floor. I wasn't sure how much that would help, but he certainly looked a lot less uncomfortable than before.

"It's weird," I began, watching him, making sure he was able to look at me too, which he did, briefly, "that there's only four beds. I was thinking, earlier, about Maxwell. If he hadn't gone running away from the palace, he would be here with us. Don't you think they would have a bed for him? Even if they knew they had to catch him, everything seems so...prepared. It seems quite unusual that they haven't prepared for Maxwell."

There was only four of everything - guards, beds, plates, cups; everything was so meretriciously prepared that it was like Yuy himself had done it, so pedantic and organized. So word must have gotten out that Duo had disappeared - how? I had read the papers after his disappearance - none of them mentioned it. Some of them even read as if Duo was still in the palace, always mentioning five pilots and using photos of all of us from the last few weeks. As far as I knew, the information was in the palace alone, and I refused to think that there was someone inside the palace that was leaking information to this new team, whose name and role I still hadn't gotten.

Yuy shrugged, shifting position to start doing push-ups. There must have been something in his training, I thought, that allowed him to put so much stress on his muscles after they had just been under so much pressure. But if it worked for him, as meditation worked for me, who was to say what was right. "Duo disappeared," he pointed out, as if I were stupid, "so I'm sure if they did have this place set up for five people, they just took out the extra items. It seems stupid to me to waste energy on doing that - having an extra set of everything and one extra bed is hardly luxury for us - but we have no idea of this organization's intent, apart from keeping a strict guard on us."

I shook my head and closed my eyes for a moment. I didn't want to explain to him how stupid that sounded, and how the house was too small for four people, let alone five, but he could rattle off ten million reasons why it wasn't weird that they hadn't prepared for Maxwell as well.

"...How can you even do that?" I finally asked, opening my eyes and turning my head to look at him.

"Do what?" He grunted as he finished with his push ups and moved on to stretching against the wall.

"All that...movement, after the tasers," I explained, watching him.

Yuy shook his head. "I don't know how you can't. This way, I won't be in agony tomorrow. If you keep just lying around and letting your muscles relax too much, tomorrow you may be in too much pain to even walk."

Not for the first time, I wondered how tough Yuy's training had been for him to know all this; how much experience he must have had being tasered. And, not for the first time, I decided I didn't want to know.

Begrudgingly, because it hurt even to sit up, I did so and sighed.

"Well, show me what to do then. ...Please." I added, as an afterthought, even though Yuy didn't particularly care about manners. He was a solider through and through - not many people asked him politely to do things, after all.

Yuy grunted again then nodded. "Fine. Start with just stretching out every muscle, like you would in tai-chi."

We had gotten to know each other more in the house, and Yuy - also an early riser - had seen me doing tai-chi after my morning meditation, before the guards let us out. It was something I was hesitant to do outside of our room, because the movements could resemble martial arts, and the last thing I wanted to do was get the guards believing I was training for some sort of escape.

I nodded, and began in my basic poses. It hurt at first, but Yuy was right - as I concentrated on tensing and flexing each muscle, the pain slowly eased to a dull thudding. By the time he told me to do press ups, I could do them as easily as normal. Maybe Yuy had his uses.

So our first plan hadn't really gone well, but at least we now knew what the guards had at their disposal and what they were prepared to use. The guns were a threat, but not an immediate danger unless one of us made a stupid move - if Maxwell had been here, he would have already been given a warning shot for sure.

I was thinking too much on him. I've always been bothered by mysteries I can't solve, by situations I couldn't do anything about. I found it hard to concentrate on my books and even meditation, with my mind drifting to Maxwell. Did he know about this? Was that why he ran away? Was he some sort of inside man? That didn't seem like Maxwell, but in desperate situations some people act out of character - maybe he was safe somewhere, but ratting us out. The thought alone made me angry, and I decided to think he knew nothing of this plot, and that his running away was just a coincidence.

But still, where ever he was was no doubt safer than here - he did run, and he could hide, so even these goons in their uniforms couldn't find him. If they had found him, he would be here with us, I was sure of it.

As I finished stretching and prepared for my nightly meditation, prayer beads held tight in my hand, I set aside a prayer for Maxwell.

'Protect him wherever he is. Keep him safe, and keep him well. And once we're free, bring him back to us.'

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	4. Cabin Fever

My ramblings-

_Hi guys!_

_So I've got a few reviews, follows and favs, and I really appreciate that!_

_I was hoping to get a chapter out a day but I found myself getting so into the story that I would 'waste' a good portion of my day. That's going to have to change as I've suddenly found myself having a (part time) job but it'll give me plenty of time to think, and probably take notes, on what I want to happen in the fic. So far I have plenty of ideas about when and how they're all going to meet Duo again (in three years time, of course), and when they're all going to be released from their separate 'prisons', but honestly as I currently get down onto my computer to type, I just type what feels right then self-edit as I go along and make sure it doesn't cause any plot problems. So in a way I'm looking forward to when they all get back together, because at least I know what I'm doing then!_

_I've also got into not only buying, but designing Gundam Wing doujinshi (comics). I'm not sure how one gets into the business when they are copyrighted characters, and I see very few in English, but I'd certainly like to make a condensed version (though it can have multiple comics) of my fanfiction, if it turns out how I feel it should. I own around 10-15 doujinshi myself (which wasn't cheap as I have to get them shipped in from America!) and honestly, none of them are above a PG-13 rating, so the fact my guys aren't oiled up and wrestling this far in isn't the end of the world... Well, the world of comics, anyway._

_So I'm looking for someone who may be interested in helping me sum up my chapters in a way that transfers more to paper. Some sentences, such as Wufei watching Duo try and escape across the hall, lend more to this than others, but I have trouble dropping even a single sentence - that's why my rambling is so long ;)_

_If you think you can help, please send me a PM. Additionally, I am still looking for a proof reader, though I've had no-one run at me with pitchforks and fire yet, so I can't be doing that awful a job._

_Oh! Same warnings as before, some dudes like other dudes, some chicks like other chicks, very minor sex scenes involving the former; there's some minor violence/blood in this chapter, minor swearing and some misogyny from Wufei. This is a very dramatic, action-packed chapter with some nice additional normalization of the pilots._

_That's my rambling over! We're staying on Wufei this time, so sorry Duo fans who wanted that cliffhanger resolved - next chapter, I promise!_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 4 - Cabin Fever **

Over four weeks trapped in one place, and we were starting to get testy. The fresh fruit and vegetables ran out over the weekend and Winner ran about like some woman would. He was worried that his precious Burton wouldn't get his vitamins - Burton, who had confided me about the times curled up on hard ground, in an inescapable hug from a mercenary three times his age who could kill him in his sleep; Burton, who stuck his arms into lions' dens and allowed a possible sister to throw knives at him on a spinning wheel; Burton, who, when out of bullets on Heavyarms, was more than happy to self destruct.

I watched Winner cluck as I sat in the kitchen, idly noticing Burton nor Yuy were here to help me out of this jam. Typical. Why did it feel like, even in this tiny place, I was always the one here to sort out any squabbles between us all or signs of Winner about to implode. They were probably off playing gin or something, perfectly able to hear Winner's wailing about the lack of carrots and just smirking. I could almost picture it.

I stood, the chair legs scraping against the floor gaining his attention. "Burton doesn't care about vitamins, Winner. He didn't get a chance to during the war, and he didn't after, but look what a Goliath he's become." It was true - at well over six foot tall, the lack of vitamins clearly hadn't phased the young boy. Of course, it could have been some steroid the doctors put in him - but if him, why not the rest of us? I wasn't exactly happy being just taller than Winner, who stood shorter than most women, but I knew not to blame it on vitamins.

The land of L5 had been cultivated to be lush, growing both fruits and vegetables that would be recognized on earth, and more exotic fare, some of it lost forever in the destruction. I had my herbal and flower-infused teas, too - teas for injury or sickness, teas for headaches, teas to help studying, to help fighting. I had managed to find and, once or twice, make up weak comparisons using earth herbs and flowers when me and Nataku camped outside. Nothing could compare to the diet on my home colony, although I was slowly getting used to to earth teas, even if they didn't quite tap into my power like they used to.

I got up and went over to the kettle, filling it with water from the tap with enough for all four of us - force of habit - and putting it on to boil before turning to Winner, who was rummaging in the dry food cupboard. I was sure he would find some dried vegetable in there that he would chirp about making into soup. If there was any seaweed - which was, of course, fairly unlikely - maybe I could convince him to let us try making miso soup. They had packets of the paste and dried tofu around, it just seemed Yuy and I were the only ones who considered it a meal rather than some sort of snack. Before I could help myself I rubbed my temples, and sighed.

Winner span around as if he had heard a gunshot, eyes wide. "What's wrong, Wufei? Are you okay?" He got close to me - not that he was too far away in the stupidly small kitchen - and tried to take my hand. "Here, let me help you sit - " I snatched away my hand before he could finish that sentence. I was not going to be helped by someone weaker than myself. Besides, I could sit myself down if I were so inclined. "I'm fine!" I snapped, the smaller boy seeming to shrink into himself and tiptoe back over to the pantry as if his bare feet really made any sort of noise on the linoleum.

"...I'm sorry. It's just I have a headache," I explained, more calmly, taking a deep exhaling breath like I often tried to do at times like this. "You must feel it, too." Winner gave a little, muted nod - his attentions were elsewhere. He had once explained to me that the empathy didn't always stay in the room, that it floated around like a ghost of its own choosing. When I had asked him before if he felt Maxwell after he disappeared he confessed not - but then added, unless he had a vague idea where someone was, he couldn't even try to find their emotion. And we didn't even know what colony Maxwell was on.

If I had wanted, I could have gone to the guards who allowed us limited access to medications - paracetamol and the like, nothing strong - and we practically laughed in their faces; well, we would have done, had that action not have earned us punishment that wasn't worth it. Face it, we were Gundam pilots - we had immunity to more pills than we could count, and the doctors had started with the soft ones first, the 'over the counter' type. It made sense, if you thought about it in a twisted, enemy way - easiest to get hold of in bulk, easiest to quickly torture and eventually poison your captives.

I don't know what I was trained 'up' to, but I knew that paracetamol wouldn't do anything. Knowing I was prone to headaches when stressed - and when is a Gundam pilot not stressed - that could turn into blinding migraines if not halted, I had learned quickly when I came to earth what may help me. It wasn't the mixture I had used on my home colony - I was never getting that back - but it helped. So the second I got to this place I was tearing apart tea bags and making my own plastic (glass was too risky) jar of tea. It had nettle, mint, chamomile, licorice - all traditional earth remedies to help with my headache. I carefully filled a tea infuser and placed it, along with a spoon, in my white mug (it had a big 'W' on the side, added by Winner who hated how identical everything was) before putting the boiling water in. There was one small luxury I was surprised they had let us have in here - honey. The drink was bearable without it, but much better with it. Maybe whoever had gathered intelligence on us hadn't done so bad - after all, there had been all the right teas here for my headaches, and all the hot drinks the others took a liking to, too - early gray for Winner, raspberry and strawberry for Yuy, and plain English breakfast tea for Burton.

As I moved out of the way, still thinking about the perfectly prepared cupboard, Winner seemed to find a calmer side of himself. He got out the mug with the T on and the mug with the Q on, and made each of their favorite teas. He added that disgusting long-life milk that we had to use - no fresh produce allowed once it had all ran out - to Trowa's drink, along with two sugars. "Right. Well, I better go ask Trowa what he wants to figure out for supper. You know what he's like, he'll come down here and find some...spaghetti and sauce and that'll be fine." 'Yeah, fine because your boyfriend suggested it,' I thought, staring deeply into the tea as if the floating infuser could tell the future. I knew I could go into that cupboard and pull out at least five different meals, only one of them a noodle dish (the same as spaghetti, but Winner had retained some of that goddawful posh atmosphere that made noodles a 'foreign food') and only one of them miso, and Winner would politely 'um' and 'uh' until Burton shooed me out of the kitchen to pretend he had found some of the more acceptable meals.

I tried not to take offense, and it wasn't like I wasn't allowed to cook (Thursday and Sunday were my routed days, most importantly chosen by us and not the guards) but how exactly did being Winner's bitch - or the other way around, I shuddered to think - mean your word is god? I grumbled to myself and took a dew more sips out my drink as Winner left and headed up the stairs. I wasn't sure where the guards were, but with all the doors and windows steadfastly locked, they seemed to relax a lot more during day time than night time. They didn't, at first. They followed us like a shadow, especially after the escape attempt, but once they found we were up to a mixture of mundane and private activities, they backed off. They never became unprofessional and tried to have a conversation, but they stopped looking at every game of hangman like we could make notes on trying to escape. And we stopped making notes on trying to escape once we realized every morning was 'bed check' - covers back, pillows off, mattresses flipped. And shower time was a confiscation and inspection of clothes so 'unless you want your pretty little escape plans to get all washed up, I would think twice about smuggling them between your cheeks', announced some guard to me the morning me and Yuy had been caught with the note exchange. I've never quite wanted to punch someone in the face quite as much, apart from maybe Maxwell, but even with that helmet on, I could tell I was dealing with a women - and I don't hit women. ...Except Maxwell.

Suddenly, there was the noise of a mug smashing upstairs. I leapt to my feet, my hand going for my gun before remembering that it wasn't there. That was taking more than a little getting used to. I left my half finished tea, knocking over my chair as I raced through the small living room and upstairs. Mine and Yuy's room was right at the top, and I could see Winner in the doorway, his mug and tea all over the floor. I could just make out the 'Q', and I could smell the Earl Gray staining the carpet. Somehow, for some reason, Burton's cup was still in his hand, and I eased it away from him and put it on the nearest steady surface before looking at what was in front of me.

Yuy was on his bed, where he belonged. Lying there on his back, he looked somewhat innocent, as if we had walked in on him sleepwalking. That would be easier to explain if Yuy's legs hadn't been wrapped around Burton's waist. Burton was keeping himself up on his arms, but both their puffy lips and red faces suggested that they had been a lot closer than that as Winner walked in. Yuy's tank top was even pulled up to his rib cage and the fly of the casual jeans he had purchased after the war were down. Burton's checkered top was undone and, although his flies were done up, what defense could they give.

Winner stood, stupefied. I don't know what he had seen when he had came in - who's lips had been pressed against who's, who's hand had been down who's pants, but I didn't need to know. No-one in this little situation was innocent, apart from Winner. I felt a growl come from me, something inhuman that had only happened before when I saw Treize, and an anger coursed through me that was nearly as strong. The other two, obviously not expecting to get caught in the act, were starting to dissemble from their 'ready' positions, but both were still full of too much surprise to act quickly enough for my actions.

It was Burton who got it first, square in the jaw. He bit his lip and my hand slammed into his nose - I could feel the satisfying crunch that meant it was broken. If I were lucky, I had chipped a few teeth on the way up too. And those hurt like a bitch - I was always getting those in my first days as a pilot, with my head too small for the head brace and wiggling around the cockpit. Still hurt sometimes now, if the weather was right or if food was too cold. If I got him good, he was always going to remember this.

The violent activity caused him to stumble off of Yuy, who was quicker pushing himself up, but not as quick as he would have been during the war. I guess it was harder with half a boner and a couple of months of peace, even if three weeks of it had been planning to fool around with a colleague's boyfriend. Instead of going for the simple punch, which was harder with Yuy half standing, I grabbed him around the throat and pushed him against the wall. It was a sneaky way to do things, to give your opponent no way out, but this wasn't exactly a fair fight - I hadn't come charging up those stairs expecting to have to take revenge against one of the men I respected the most. I felt my grip increase against his neck. I could feel little things - not bones, but tendons, muscles - crunch and crackle under my touch. Yuy's arms flailed, uselessly. All these years, and he couldn't even get out of a chocker hold? I decided it would be more trouble than it was worth to kill him, and more fun to keep him alive, as I relaxed my grip and drew back. Yuy - Heero Yuy, known for being inexpressive, suddenly looked relieved, until he felt my knee draw back in all its fury and hit him straight in the nuts.

Maybe it wasn't a fair fight. Taking advantage of such a delicate situation certainly had never been something I had been taught, but given the circumstances, the punishment seemed to fit the crime. During all this, the other pilots hadn't moved. Burton had his head back, trying to get a handle on his intense nosebleed - Winner hadn't moved, hadn't left the room, hadn't moved closer to Burton. Yuy fell to his knees in front of me and I stepped back, my rage decreasing. I didn't need to say anything. I hate to think what would have happened if Winner hadn't dropped his mug, if it had stayed silent up here. Would Winner have started yelling or quietly put Burton's mug down and gone into their room? Would Burton have gotten control of himself and gone running after him to console him? Would we have had an awkward, silent dinner with only me outside of the secret?

Suddenly, the guards arrived. I don't know where they came from, but not for the first time I found myself wondering if they had cameras switched on during the day, now we had proven ourselves for a couple of weeks. Well, any proving, at least of myself, had come undone in one anger filled second. Did Burton even know what he was messing with? What I...what some people would give, to have that intimacy with someone so close to them? Surviving a war together but keeping on loving just as passionately, as if nothing interrupted it?

Away from Yuy but still accessible I had dropped to my knees and put my hands above my head - signs of surrender, of course. I was heaved up under my arms by two guards - not exactly being gentle but OZ had been far rougher. The other two guards weren't exactly trained in kindness - one just kept throwing tissue after tissue at Burton with no advice apart from saying 'pinch your nose, head back' in an emotionless voice. Blood trickled down Burton's chin from his teeth or lips and his eyes, already dark bruised underneath from the badly broken nose watched me with coldness.

No-one seemed what to do with Yuy. If it was us, anyone from the war, we'd know to give him maybe ten minutes alone and he'd shake it off, but the guard kept trying to lift him which made him let out a string of curses in Japanese. I wondered how the guard would feel if he was kneed in the nuts, then realized the barely-trying guard was female. That explained a lot. His pain would stop, although it would hurt to piss, and forget about trying to be intimate with anyone else for a while. His throat would be bruised and hurt like hell for a few days, and I expected his voice would become more gruff - but none of it was lasting damage. Not like with Burton, who would have to live with a croaked nose all his life.

Winner was frozen, and Winner was alone. He watched one of the housekeepers sweep up the shards of mug and mutter something about the tea stain, but she otherwise ignored him too. He pressed himself flat against the wall. His lip was turned down but he wasn't about to cry - he had moved on a lot since the war. The empathy in that room must have been playing havoc with him though, so maybe he was able to stay void simply because everyone elses' emotions overtook and complicated him.

As I was dragged by, I wanted to reach out and say something - maybe apologies for them, for Burton in particularly, or maybe for the dishonorable way I had acted, using my heart rather than my head. But when I stretched my fingers and touched his arm, all I felt was cold skin and Winner turning away from me. 'They deserved it,' I told myself, with convection, 'but Winner didn't deserve to have to see any of it.'

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	5. How to Stand Properly

My rambling -

_Yay, another chapter! Again, just randomly inspired so I thought I would type whilst it was in my head. It became rather long, but we're back to Duo's perspective, and talking more about his relationship with Wufei._

_Therefore this chapter includes hints towards sex and, of course, sexuality (MEN LIKE MEN, WARN THE PRESSES) as well as swearing and mention of grisly (best word to describe it, really) injuries. _

_That's all I really have to say about it all (=_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 5 - How to Stand Properly**

The light blinded him for a couple more seconds even as the figure moved towards him. He tried to get up, despite the cuffs around his ankles, and use his rather unintimidating height against the figure. Wufei had taught him that - no matter how short you were, stand as if you were six foot, with a straight back. Pretend that a long string is coming down from the sky and pulling you up from the top of your head whilst your feet stay steadily planted on the floor. Duo would always tease him then about being a puppet of god (or the gods, in Wufei's case) whilst he was an angel of death - his string would be coming from the bottom of the earth and it was lucky he wasn't crumpled uselessly on the ground.

He had been, once. Well, more than once. But it had only been once that Wufei had found him.

They had been in some shithole safe house in the middle of a forest so damaged by war that most of the trees were bare or suffering from fire damage. When Duo first saw it, he didn't see how on earth they were meant to stay hidden here - but between centuries of horror films based around run down shacks in the woods and people struggling with their own lives, they would probably be overlooked anyway.

Duo remembered he had been dragging his leg - some sort of injury when running away from the enemy, he remembered stumbling over someone else's head (someone dead, probably someone already dead, hopefully someone already dead) and hearing a crack. Managing to keep himself from falling, he kept running - run-limping, rimping maybe - to where his transport was ready and waiting. He could outrun these scrubs with ease, even on a solo mission, and he almost felt pity as he got out of the building and onto the motorbike that didn't really stick out in the car park of the base. He started up his bike, put on his helmet - why take the risk, he did enough with his Gundam - and paused to press the button.

The explosions started at the back of the base, as he planned, then moved through the building. He was used to the anguished screams, but he was having trouble getting the bike started. It was a second hand piece of crap that Howard had found and 'fixed', and this was the first problem Duo had with it. He knew the explosions wouldn't reach the car park but now was a good time to get out, whilst everyone was busy with everyone else.

So he had hopped off the bike to wheel it out of the compound, when he felt something grab his bad ankle. The pain coursed through him and he hissed, turning around to see what could be grabbing his attention in such a painful way.

His own pain left every ounce of his body when he saw who was touching him. Or, more appropriately at this point, what. He could tell it was a young man (although still older than himself) with blond hair that looked like it used the same wax Wu did. Everything else was hard to tell. He was naked, but this was hardly of Duo's concern - there were patterns and marks burnt onto what was left of the skin of his torso. As he let go of Duo's ankle, he left his skin behind and Duo, even though he knew he was meant to keep a calm composure, frantically shook his leg until the skin slid off and onto the ground.

The man's head was like something he had seen in a book about Hiroshima, once - he had burnt, red-angry skin on one side, second and third degree burns, and the other side was missing all its skin. It was alarming, especially around his mouth, giving him a smile that wasn't really a smile. It was bared teeth.

The thing that was once a man spoke. His voice croaked, burnt from the inside as much as the outside. He must have been screaming, fire must have got in - once fire got in, there wasn't much that could be done.

"I...know...you did...this..." He said, slowly.

Duo said nothing. He knew this man couldn't tell, wouldn't be able to tell. If there were any risk, Heero had taught him how to kill with bare hands. With an excited atmosphere like this, and the chance of people evacuating soon, people perhaps who weren't in such a bad state, he didn't need to muddy the waters with a gunshot. Strangulation would work just fine. But Duo simply knew he didn't need to.

He should have kept moving the bike. Other dying people had wanted to tell him their stories before, but something about this man made him want to listen - maybe it was how ruined he had made it all, seeing the damage he had done up close and personal.

"...My little girl..Lucilla..." His red raw hand groped around his neck, pulled until the chain that hang there broke. "...Lives south of here...the Workers' Complex B. ...Please don't...bomb there...please...post this through the door...please..." He held out a necklace, the type with a clasp that held photos. Not unusual, in the army, though this guy had chosen to attach his dog tags on to the same necklace.

The dying man was getting tired, it wasn't hard to tell. After taking the necklace and nodding solemnly, Duo reached out and closed his eyelids. For a moment, he fondled the cross under his shirt and considered giving the man his final rites, but it had been so long and he was running out of time. Instead, he shoved the necklace into his jacket pocket, zipping it up so it was secure, and rolled the bike out of the complex.

Once he had gotten out, he hopped back in the bike and was relieved to find it started first time this time. The Workers' Complex B was on his way to the safe house, but he knew Howard and Quatre would be pissed if he didn't check in soon. He was already late, thanks to the man who had caught him. Finally, someone had - technically - caught up with the angel of death.

So he drove past the unharmed Complex - it wasn't, as far as he knew, on their hit list either, so at least he could keep one promise for now - and on to the badly hidden safe house where even he was convinced an ax murderer could be hiding. He hid his bike using netting and the dead leaves that covered the ground (far easier than trying to hide a Gundam; thankfully 'Scythe was safe getting a tune up with Howard) before going inside. The building was more up to date than the outside would have you believe - the windows were bulletproof and tinted over so no-one could see in, the door had two locks to get in, and five locks on the inside, and of course it had electricity but only cold running water. After all, it was a stop over base, made for a night or two, not for very long.

Duo retrieved his laptop and sent a quick email to Howard and Quatre, explaining -

'The job went real good, guys! Boom, boom, boom, all gone. All dead or badly wounded. Duo Maxwell - 1, OZ - Nil. You asked the right man for the job ;) I'd loveeeeee to chat over the video phone but this lumpy, cold bed is calling my name so we can talk in the morning.'

He added on to Quatre banter and info only he needed to know -

'Cat, get your arms away from the circus performer and look over at your emails every now and again man! I'm sure he can twist into all sorts of exciting shapes, but it was you who asked me to go on this mission on behalf of one of the doctors and without many details, I should add! You owe me at least a Dr. Pepper and rum when we get somewhere more classy. Anyway I got the intel that was requested on a USB stick that I'll keep safe until we meet again. I don't trust the connection in this rickety old barn even if Heero swears by it. Ciao!'

He sent the emails, feeling no need to tell them about the dying man. He felt no need to tell them about anything, apart from write in the correct tone and make the right excuses about why he didn't want to talk on the phone. There was only one bed in the safe house, but it was a double - as far as he knew, he was the only one with a job near here, so he could relax. That was good, too. He was suddenly aware of the pain in his ankle again - the pain he could ignore when talking to someone so worse off than him, pain he could ignore despite the throbbing of the old bike, the pain he could ignore when he was pretending the mission was a success and he was the same old same.

He eased his military boot off, the smell of new leather not exactly unwelcome to him. The boot was hard to get off - his ankle had swollen up in it bad, and he didn't want to have to cut himself out of them later and try and find a substitute shoe in this shack. It was warm, but a cold hand against it felt welcoming, eyes closing for a minute. Maybe when he felt stronger, he could find some painkillers and something to wrap around it - maybe a cool towel or something. Shit, that would feel nice. But for now, he had to sit down. It had been a long, solo mission, with few chances to rest.

Duo fell back on the edge of the bed and drew out the necklace. It was nothing special, and he eased open the clasp.. There was a photo of the young man - probably to match to his body, but even Duo could be convinced he was looking at two different people right then - and, on the other side, a photo of a little girl. She looked about six or seven, an age Duo remembered all too vividly with Solo 'adopting' him - she was sitting on a horse and grinning with insane happiness. Their childhoods couldn't be further apart, but she had still lost her daddy, and Duo was making assumptions she was sitting comfortably at home with her mummy. He didn't know. The horse could be from a petting zoo, a day trip from a care home that looked after kids who didn't have mums and had dads at war - they weren't unusual. He was making wild assumptions just because he didn't see a photo of her begging in the gutter. She may have been there. He didn't know.

He closed the clasp and examined the dog tags. 'David Machin'. The same initials as him, and the same birthday as him, though he would have been five years older in a couple of months. Duo ran his finger up and down the barcode, and found himself standing. Here wasn't safe. Not the house, but the position he was in. He wasn't safe. Duo found himself a corner with two outside walls, one with the front door on, and the other that the bed rested against. Safer. Corners were always safer. People couldn't sneak up on you that way. You had more chance of surviving if a pipe bomb suddenly came flying your way. He was also closer to his bike; even if it was outside, it was still only one of his few processions.

David Machin was the same as him, apart from burnt to a crisp with a little girl who was missing her daddy. News would have reached the Complex by now, and they'd all be wondering if their daddies were alive or dead, and how badly injured they were. God, no kid should have to see their dad like he had seen David. David - already on first name terms like they were friends. Maybe they were, in a weird way. David had reached out to him, literally, to give him the necklace and give him that responsibility. Bur he couldn't do it right now. No matter what side you were on, he was sure David would understand that - Duo would basically be yelling 'I DID IT' if he turned up in the Complex with the necklace.

Duo felt his head bow down. He held the necklace against his heart as if every thud he didn't deserve would somehow give life to David. In reality, every beat was causing his ankle to throb and expand more - it had become a colour similar to eggplant, a vegetable Duo hadn't tried until earlier that year with much persuading from Quatre, and - guess what - he hadn't liked it. But at least he had something to relate it to against his ankle.

He was sure there was a first aid kit in the kitchen with at least some bandages in and maybe some cream to help the swelling, and he knew he should be on the bed alleviating it rather than slumped on the floor. But it was a weird self-induced punishment from an injury that was an accident - it wasn't just David, or even just his daughter losing her daddy, but it was everyone else and everyone elses' story. Their voices pounded through his head, sorrow and loss and heartbreak. He wasn't empathetic like Quatre was, but really, it didn't take a lot of imagination to hear them all screaming. It was like Maxwell Church all over again, it was like the stories he had heard from the other kids there about losing their parents - everyone had their story.

Maybe he was feeling sorry for himself, or maybe the emotion of it all really was making it hard for him to do anything else, but even as the door unlocked and creaked open, he didn't spring up, ready to attack bare-handed, gun still tucked under the mattress of the bed. He stayed on the floor. If this was the end, it was the end. Maybe someone had followed him back to this location and was about to beat the shit out of him or set the place on fire - and Duo would embrace that situation with no argument.

Instead, there was a soft kick against - thankfully - his uninjured ankle. "Maxwell." The noise was more akin to a grunt than a word, but he heard his name in the jumble. He knew the voice, and obviously the voice knew him, so he wasn't in immediate danger - at least not from the enemy. The voice, on the other hand, may pose a problem. He finally raised his head and gave a loose one handed wave. "...Hey Wu."

Wufei immediately bristled. "My name is not 'Wu'." He spoke through somewhat clenched teeth. "Why are you acting like such an idiot? I could have been anyone." Duo snorted, turning his head away. "I didn't see you with your gun drawn, either."

"Of course you didn't," Wufei retorted, "because I had my gun drawn, and pointed at you, when you weren't even looking at me. If I had been OZ, you'd be dead right now. What is wrong with you?!"

It wasn't a nice 'what is wrong with you?'. It wasn't the kind he would get from Quatre that was genuine; it was more like 'what's wrong in your head?' than anything else. In response, Duo gave a one armed shrug. He really didn't know. He should be perfect like Heero - not injured, making his formal emails, then training in his down time. Or he should be like Trowa, limping to wrap up his own injuries, writing his own formal emails and one less than formal email to Quatre. Or like Wufei, quietly meditating, sitting still for hours, not distracted by the pain or the world around him.

To his surprise, Wufei seemed to relax a little. "You're hurt," he muttered, shaking his head. Yeah, yeah, typical Duo, he got it. Wufei grabbed him by the arm and tugged him to his feet, Duo hissing in pain as he put weight on his ankle. "I knew this wasn't the right solo mission for you... Or for any of us. It should have been at least two person effort." As Duo wasn't speaking, Wufei seemed to be filling the gap with noise - or maybe he wanted to make this much noise normally and Duo's rambling stopped him.

"This failure is nothing to do with you - " He began, and Duo tensed, stopping him with a growl. "There was no failure. I did my job perfectly. I snuck in, I placed the explosives, I hid, I ran, I set the damn things off. An injury is not a failure, Wuffie." Now he was saying 'Wuffie' to piss him off, because he was pissed off himself. "You sound like Heero. An injury, taking a minute over the anticipated time or taking minor damage to your Gundam is not a goddamn failure!"

Annoyance won over the pain and he wiggled free from the other, even though he overbalanced and fell onto the hard floor. Sure, it hurt, and he probably had more minor bruises because of it, but he didn't care. He was free from Wufei, who was acting more like Heero, at least in his mind, and he couldn't deal with that shit just then.

Duo let himself stay crumpled on the floor, breathing fast, because he was trying not to cry. Wufei frowned, and bent down to his side, instead of trying to yank him up again. "I...didn't mean failure like that," Wufei said, softly. "I was criticizing the mission. I read the specs before I came on my mission, just in case it required a second person, and I know it meant you couldn't sleep for over three days, that you had to try and blend in with the enemy, and that you had to risk your neck more than usual without your Gundam. I wanted to join you on it, but my mission ended after yours', obviously, though I am glad to see you relatively safe."

Duo turned his head away. The anger fell from his face and he bit his lip. How could he be angry when Wufei seemed to be actually being honest for once about not wanting to abandon a colleague. Sure, colleagues, that was all they would ever be to Wufei, but more and more recently Duo had been finding himself having different feelings. Even the nicknames were names of friendship, not disrespect, and if Wufei ever told him seriously to stop, he would in a heartbeat. But so far, he seemed to be tolerating it.

"...I'm sorry, Wu. I'm sure you're...I'm sure you wanted time alone rather than me stuck in this stupid shack too. I'd leave, but...there's no way I can with this ankle." He admitted, shaking his head. To his surprise, Wufei's arms were suddenly under him, scooping him up with a strength that couldn't be seen from his lithe body. He gently moved him over to the bed and lay him down, taking the other set of pillows and resting his ankle on it. "You're not leaving." Wufei said, firmly.

And Duo didn't. Neither did Wufei. They both stayed there, keeping weary eyes on their laptops and passing the time with gin rummy and other card games. Wufei found a chess set and tried in vein to teach the boy how to play, but Duo had the attention span of a squirrel on speed, so it didn't exactly take, but they actually had fun with it. Wufei found himself not as angry at Duo's failings; Duo found himself wanting to annoy Wufei a lot less.

Some small bone in his ankle was broken, but it only took a couple of days for the swelling to go down and then a support bandage let him limp around. If he had been a normal teenager, the hospital probably would have given him a cast - but when you were a Gundam Wing pilot, and one of the most wanted people in the world and space, you didn't have the chance to use a cast.

One evening, only around five days after that pathetic first day, Wufei came out of the kitchen to find himself looking at the necklace the dying man had given him. He looked at Duo quizzically. All the pilots by now knew about the cross, but this silver-plated necklace was new to him. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but...a trophy?"

Duo looked up at him. A part of him felt a numb sense of anger at Wufei thinking he would want to take a trophy for the people he killed, but it was more sadness than anything else. Maybe when his ankle was too swollen for him to move he had an excuse not to return it, but now he was able to walk, he was feeling more guilty.

He fiddled about the necklace as he told Wufei all about it. Wufei nodded understandingly - he had never had the same situation, but he could imagine it. Maybe Heero could say no (or, more likely, nothing at all) to a dying man, but most of the pilots would at least make the effort to say they would do what's right.

"You know you can't return it," Wufei said, very softly, when the story was over. "It has your fingerprints all over it... All it needs is someone looking a bit closer at the situation and you'll be found out. We all will be, at this point in time. After all this running and hiding, do you really want to be found out this way?"

Duo bowed his head and shook it a little. Of course he didn't. He would never put his colleagues at such a risk, even though he was neutral about the impact on himself. "I know what we can do instead," Wufei suggested, giving a half smile. "Do you think you can put your sock and shoes on now?" Duo nodded. The swelling was almost non-existent, even if the pain still bothered him occasionally - certainly not enough to complain about.

After struggling about with the tight fitting boots and listen to Wufei drone on about the many ways you could loosen tough boots, they left the shack locked and headed deeper into the woods. Duo's head was bowed, which was how he normally walked - his braid was distinctive enough, his purple eyes didn't need to draw attention to him too. Wufei looked at him and pulled a face.

"Duo. You know the difference between me and you?"

Duo could list a thousand, but not quite in the mood with the necklace firmly in his hand, he shook his head instead.

"We're both short - that's what's the same. But I make it look like I'm not short. Right now, I look at least a couple of inches taller than you and when people look at me, they probably see me as a foot taller than you, because height leads to confidence."

Duo sighed a little. "So what's your suggestion? We both go on some sort of stretching rack until we look a little more like guys our own age?"

Wufei smiled a bit at Duo's humor coming back - if only slightly. "Not exactly. Stop for a minute." He instructed, moving to stand in front of him. Gently, he touched Duo's shoulders, shifting them so they slouched less - he put a finger under Duo's chin and lifted it up so he was looking forward. He swept his bangs out of his eyes so they were looking each other right in the eyes.

"Okay. Close your eyes for a minute. You know you can trust me."

Honestly, Wufei didn't have to say that. Duo did trust Wufei. He had become more trusting and more enchanted with him over the last few days, and those touches just then had driven him wild - he was just glad he was wearing loose pants. Wufei was already in some sort of zone, something magical, like meditation - he wouldn't have noticed anyway.

Duo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Having his eyes closed, even in the middle of an alien forest, made him feel more relaxed already.

"Okay, now I want you to imagine there's a string going from the top of your head. It runs up to the sky - it doesn't matter what it attaches too; a cloud, a sun, some god, whatever you're comfortable with. The most important thing is to feel your spine straighten, your legs straighten - you should feel less strain on your knees and ankles, your head won't feel as heavy. You don't always have to walk like this - we both know there's times where you have to hide, or blend in, but if you can, walk in this position. Your breathing will even feel better because it opens up the diaphragm. You'll be conscious of doing it the first few times, but then it'll become second nature and you'll only change it when you have to, like for missions. ...You can open your eyes now."

Wufei said all of that so softly, so peacefully that Duo felt a weird and not unpleasant tingling all over his scalp, going down the back of his neck, almost falling the line of his braid. It was such a relaxing feeling that Duo didn't want to stop, but of course it had to, and Duo opened his eyes, feeling a soft blush on his cheeks.

"Are you okay? You look a little flushed. Maybe it was too early to take you out with your ankle..." Wufei fussed, but Duo shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine! I just...look like that when I have to concentrate for a long time." Wufei shrugged. "Sounds like you," he agreed. He was even getting used to gently ribbing Duo; a week with him would apparently do that to you.

"You should use that position to get dominance, too. I know we're both not tall, but I've gotten out of a lot of situations just by putting myself in that position. Always meet their eyes. Always stare them down. Always keep your back straight. Never let your body language tell someone else how scared or hurt you are. It may save your life one day."

Wufei kept them both walking until they came to a deep drop in the middle of no where. It wasn't quite a cliff, although the fall could certainly kill you, but as it was so isolated, there was no fencing - just one rickety bridge going across it.

"Some memories are best left behind. Do you really think that little girl wants dog tags from the man who killed her father, or do you think she'd like to keep her memories of all the fun things they did?"

Duo sighed softly. "I know if I had a dad to remember... I wouldn't want some dog tags that smell like fire and blood. I would just want the memories. And hopefully, she has plenty of those."

"Then let it free, Duo." For a moment, Wufei took the necklace and, forever the pilot, wiped carefully at the tags and the clasp. They could have done more to get the fingerprints off, but no-one would be looking for the necklace and probably no-one would find it. A small stream running through the center of the drop would hopefully wash off the last of any evidence and water was symbolical of a fresh start, of something new, also of life continuing on into something bigger, like the sea. Duo was only half listening as he gazed once more at the photos, and ran a thumb over the name.

"...David Machin, I let you free!" He didn't yell it too loud, just in case, but it was important for him to say none the less. He threw the jewelry and it landed in the water, being dragged along slightly by the flow and settling by some rocks. That day, David Machin became free, and Duo Maxwell learned how to be a new man.

So that's how he stood as the figure approached him. Despite the cuffs and the pain in his bank from being hunched over, not to mention the throbbing headache, he managed to stand tall and straight, shoulders back, feet flat on the ground but his head straight, and his expression neutral.

The man who reached him definitely was taller than him, even though Duo had grown a couple of inches since the incident in the woods. He was more Trowa's height but with the build of a strong man, with visible muscles - it was relatively easy to work out and not have muscles straining, but this sort of guy had them to show he had them. To show he meant business. His hair ran down to his chin level, and it was curly blond - lighter than Quatre's, more platinum than yellow. His face was not unattractive, but all Duo could see right then was the face of the man who had captured him, or at least held him here.

The man smirked and reached through the bars, stroking a long fingernail - too long, it felt disgusting against his skin - under his chin. "Ahh, Duo Maxwell. How long I have wanted to meet you. How long I have watched you on screens and wanted to reach through and, ohhh, just grab you out of it. And now you're here. And I'm here. I'm sure you're confused, but I'm sure above all else, you're thirsty. I've heard Midazolam* can make you have a rather dry mouth... That, and being unconscious for four days too, I would assume."

He produced a water bottle and held it up to the bars. Duo had to lap from the drizzling water like a dog, and he was pretty sure only half of it got in his mouth. "Good boy," the man purred, a noise that made Duo feel sick. He was dependent on this man for everything, and he was more powerless than just the cuffs - he was being chemically restrained. The Mida-whatever the man had spoken of had left him drowsy and shaky, and he couldn't even know if the bottle didn't contain anymore drugs. This was all so risky - but equally, it was all he had.

"...So," Duo finally spoke once the bottle was empty. "...Tell me why I'm here."

_Dun dun dun, another cliffhanger! Always a cliffhanger, really._

_*Just as a note, Midazolam is an injectable sedative that can be used continuously, though Duo has been injected repeatedly rather than having an IV drip - it doesn't last too long even in its stronger injectable form, so it can be assumed he has been injected more than the five times he noted on his arms. Midazolam has lots of uses, including for operations, so it knocks you out deep - it also impairs the short term memory. These details will no doubt be important as the plot goes on, as well as the withdrawal symptoms from it being rather extreme, similar to other benzo withdrawals. _

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	6. Flash-bang Memories

My ramblings -

_**(Note - You don't have to read all of this. I've realized sometimes I ramble a lot and often times it's not needed to the chapter or story itself. I've decided from now on that I will only put things I feel are necessary in bold, like an important detail or the warnings). **_

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, following, or making my story a favorite. I appreciate these small things and they encourage me to keep writing. _

_To one of my more recent reviews - it is weird I keep occasionally switching to to Barton instead of Burton. It could be my inferior writing program (that occasionally puts capital I's in the middle of words) or it could be me lapsing - whichever it is, it should have been caught by my proof-reading, so I apologize. I once read that the creator said he chose Burton as the English-language name because he loved Tim Burton's work, as do I and, I think, most people. Random fact of the day!_

_And thank you to the person who mentioned __Midazolam can be placed under the skin for a number of days - that is actually helpful to know. I'm not medically minded, so I may gloss or full out get wrong information like that - correction and information is always helpful (:_

_**As I was going through the fic anyway to look for Barton vs. Burton mistakes, I decided to go back to Chapter 1 - SURPRISE! and change all the first names to surnames, as it comes from Wufei's perspective. I would have left it, but blah blah I was sorting this all out anyway, so I may as well. Also, for this chapter, please note I haven't read any official manga regarding Duo and Solo, so it's a non-canon piece.**_

_As for mentioning little details like Heero's trousers and how he got them and the fact they're jeans etc., I feel at the moment it's an important detail in establishing that Heero is no longer the fairly unfashionable (if you considered someone wearing it in real life) teenage boy he once was and given both money and choice, things slowly change for him. It's also all new to him that he no longer has to dress as the doctors have ordered, or dress to fit in, like at the school during the GW series. It's like picking up on little things Wufei does (or does not do) now the war is over in comparison to during the war itself, or even before when he was on L5._

_Of course, I'm mainly focusing on Duo and Wufei as my central and eventual romantic characters - so how now Wufei actually thinks about Duo when he's not around rather than just being grateful for it, and how Duo is actually using a technique that previously he would have ignored with meditation not coming easily to him - but I still feel the other characters need to be shown as developed and different through little changes. _

_**Warnings - It's the same as always. Rainbow flag all the way. Swearing, a little; nothing over the top. Past character death; slightly graphic. **_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 6 - Flash-bang Memories **

The blonde man withdrew his hand with the bottle. Duo desperately wanted to ask when he would have more, and that it wasn't a big deal to let him have water - another thing OZ had let him have that was comparable to this situation. But more importantly, he wanted to know why he was there, and he demanded an answer in rough, angered tones.

The man chuckled, throwing the empty bottle on the floor. "You are here, Duo, to save L2. Yes, you. And you don't need a huge robot to do it in, or any of your favored stealth missions. All I need from you in some blood, and your body for some little experiments."

Duo tensed himself up, once more looking around and finding no exit. Not even a tiny window to the outside where he could look to get attention, all the bricks looked thick and unmovable. It felt like a cage built just for him - not something that was for any other prisoner. If that was the case, maybe the guy was a newbie - that would mean he had to have left some mistake somewhere, cut some corner.

"What do you know of the plague spreading across L2?" The man asked Duo as he mentally took in his surroundings. Duo looked back to the man. "...The palace delivered the L2 Colony Daily to me every morning. I...know a little bit about it." In all honestly, after five mornings of the 'plague' being the headline of the paper, he had asked that it wasn't allowed in the palace anymore. It wasn't that he didn't care - he just didn't know what to do to help, and he didn't need the flash-bang memories associated with the word plague and everything associated with it.

Trowa had explained the concept of those sort of memories when 4am found them both up and in Relena's massive kitchen. "Think of it like this...you know flash-bang grenades? They're sudden, they're noisy, they're confusing, and sometimes you can't escape them - that's what a memory like that is like. When you see the word plague...you can't help but to see ten million visions, and you can't do a damn thing about them." Trowa gave a slight shrug. "I'm sure we all having them...or, at least something similar to them, even if certain people won't admit it. You just have to learn how to distract yourself and, maybe in the meantime, give those papers a miss."

It had been the longest time Duo hadn't spoke, and it wasn't just because he was continuing to make a sandwich, focusing intensely on cutting off every crust from his bread. He just couldn't think of any words to thank Trowa for not just calling him insane, or staring at him silently. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make him over-emotional, because over-emotional was the only level he had been on in the last couple of days. He was either a pathetic flood of tears and sorries - or bouncing off the walls, what the others would be considered 'normal'. And right now, he was more sliding towards tears than anything else. So he quietly pushed the food over to the other and gave him a nod. "...Thanks Trowa. That's...good advice, I think. You can come to me too if...you need it."

Duo shook his head now, looking back to the man. "I know it's the same plague. I know all the politicians are offering sympathetic words but don't want to get their hands dirty. I know it's still a disease spread among the homeless and...the kids." It was one of the first things he had seen once he got out of the shuttle terminal - begging kids, all hoping someone rich would fly in (as if that would happen - all the rich did was leave when they saw the run down colony) and he had managed to spare some change, though it didn't stop the disgusting feeling in his stomach and the deja vu in his head.

"Ahh, yes, all the little children. The poor and the needy. No-one will care until someone with the disease flies off to L4 or Earth and it starts to spread. And that's when you really come into use."

The man was talking faster now, pacing in front of Duo. "I know when you were 6 years old, only ten years ago, you took a vaccine against the plague. You had mistaken it for the antidote to give your dear, dying mentor, but your colour-blindness got the better of you; out of the bottles you could steal, it was green. An antidote is red."

Duo shut his eyes tight at the memory. Solo, puking for days, coughing up blood, still trying to help out the other sick kids and still trying to help on their daily 'missions' for bread, but it didn't take long to find him flat on his back in their hideout. He had whispered he was cold, even though his forehead was burning. Fever, Duo knew that. He didn't know what to do about it, but he knew what it was. So Duo stole all the unused sleeping bags and coats he could, as it was daytime and most of the healthy kids were on 'mission duty' outside. He curled them all around Solo, zipped them up where he could.

"Kiddo...I need you to do a big thing, okay?" Duo nodded solemnly. "You know the research facility I've been stealing antidotes from when..." He started to cough, and stained the sleeve of someone else's coat crimson."...When we've need them." They had only needed them five or six times now - most of the kids had, somehow, stayed in good health and the few that had found themselves with the plague had even managed to shake it. Solo had made a big point that stealing the medicine was only for when it got bad; really bad. And this was really bad.

Duo nodded, taking Solo's hand, which was ice cold. "I'm giving you permission to...steal this...for me. You got that? One bottle only; red." Duo nodded again, then realizing Solo's eyes were only pencil slits, spoke up instead. "Okay. I-I won't be long, Solo. Promise!"

And he wasn't long. It hadn't been a hard steal but he had worried all the way there about dropping it and losing everything. He got back to the hideout, and to Solo's side - the older male seemed to be sleeping so Duo shook his shoulder. "You're back," Solo's voice groaned in the dark of the room. "Uh-huh. And I got it!" He held up the green bottle, triumphantly.

For a moment, Solo said nothing. Then, as if out of nowhere, he laughed, and then laughed, until he was coughing. Duo was confused - was he laughing because he was going to live now? Solo eventually went quiet and an expression crossed his face that Duo didn't understand, before he spoke again. "Kiddo...that's a vaccine. I guess you're colourblind, huh?" Duo didn't know what the last bit meant - but he knew a vaccine was no good for Solo. Solo was already sick.

"I-I can run and get another one before the clinic closes!" He said, stumbling back to his feet. "...No point, Duo," Solo said, softly. He only ever really used his name when things were bad - so things had to be bad. "...That antidote at that time was my only hope. I...I'm dying.'

Duo moved close and cradled his mentor's head, wiping away his hair from his forehead, wishing he had a spare hairband to keep his hair away, and an icepack for his head, because it was a summer day as warmly wretched as anything, trying to mirror some exotic location on Earth when really it just made the illness spread quicker and the rubbish smell worse.

Solo was quiet, peaceful. Duo realized now as an adult, what that expression had been when he realized it wasn't the right medication - it had been sadness, sure, but hopelessness too. No shred of selfishness, of asking why he should die above people who probably deserved it more, just thinking of what he would have done, what he needed to do on this earth - protect the kids. It had been his only role, and now he was going to lose it thanks to Duo's cock-up and death being ever indiscriminate.

It hadn't been a peaceful death. Nothing like he had seen sneaking into the cinema where the heroin had turned her head slightly, coughed, and lay still. Solo ranted with delirium - at a moment of being lucid he made Duo promise to drink the vaccine, right in front of him, right now. He wasn't going to die too, even if sickness had been all over him. Duo nodded and drank it down. It tasted horrible, but it was probably better than dying.

At times, Solo was quiet; sometimes, he cried for his mother and that was when Duo had hugged him close, hoping his lithe body would do as a substitute. He barely recognized Duo most of the time and once told him to go away, because he was waiting to go on a train downtown. Death is never pretty, Duo realized then. Nothing like in the pictures.

Eventually, Solo seemed to have worn himself out and lay on the nest of sleeping bags and coats. Duo wanted to go and collect the others, so they could all say their goodbyes, but they would get sick with no vaccines in them. Duo hoped he would go then, just take a last breath and fall asleep, but then the seizure happened that he had no idea what to do with, apart from keeping his head still because smacking it against the ground even once seemed so painful. It calmed down to the occasional twitch and, at one point, Solo opened his eyes and fixed them on Duo. His mouth moved as if to say something, but nothing came out. Solo closed his eyes for the last time and finally that shuddering breath left him, and Duo imagined his soul leaving - a healthy soul, a happy soul, waving at Duo and heading into some mysterious light a lady had once told him about.

But just then, Duo was painfully aware of being with the corpse of his best friend, who he could have saved if his eyes worked right. They were fixed prior to him becoming a pilot, in a painful operation, but he couldn't go back in time and fix his mistake. Solo was dead weight as Duo dragged him up against him and rocked him like Solo had done when Duo had nightmares - he whispered in their silly made up language that kept them safe on the streets, he promised that he wouldn't let their little group break up, and then he finally kissed his forehead.

No, Duo realized, suddenly back in the room, triggered by the flashbang of the 'doctor's' words. He couldn't fix mistakes that happened then, but he could sure as hell fix mistakes that were happening right now.

"Okay," he said, softly. "You have me. Physically and mentally. If I can help someone, then let me help them."

A selfless act, maybe, but if Duo had known exactly what that had meant, maybe he wouldn't have volunteered with quite such gusto...

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	7. Drawing Blood

My ramblings -

_Hi!_

_Thanks again for more feedback, always appreciated._

_Some warnings for this one - discussion/description of blood and vomit, hints towards past sexual molestation, some non-sexual nudity, some very low level swearing._

_I promise, despite the way the this chapter ends, the next chapter IS a Wufei one, so yay for that._

_**For those who read the chapter earlier, it was in first person (Duo's perspective) but it really didn't work in the long term. So I'm sorry if people have gotten confused, but from now on Wufei is always first person; Duo is always third. **_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 7 - Drawing Blood **

Once the foreplay was over, Duo realised the man was just getting started. The doctor, who proved himself quite lanky as he unlocked the door to my cage briefly and slipped inside, locking it behind himself. He had to bent down and Duo was, rather shamefully, reminded once more of my stunted height. Probably years of unregulated chemicals after years of non-provided vitamins needed for a decent growth spurt.

Duo slipped back when the man came inside the room, though he had told him with a rather disgusting double entendre that he was coming inside a very private and intimate space; that he hoped Duo was clean. It wouldn't have been funny even if the threat of rape hadn't felt very, very real - a constant, at the hands of a madman who kept trying to reassure the ex-pilot he was a doctor.

Closer, Duo saw the blond hair was greying, just at the part - so was Wu's, he thought absently, which was why he kept in in such a silly style; once he found out, one day after bumping into him when he was damp and pink from the shower, his hair loose and hanging in loose curls around his chinline. After Duo got over being flustered ('Maxwell, lost for words? What a surprise.') Wufei used his spare towel to dry the hair - as he did so, Duo noticed he was grey in the middle of the part, which explained why he like keeping it back and tight.

After Duo must have spent the best part of the day teasing him and dropping hints without telling anyone (not that 'anyone' in the safehouse cared - it was Trowa, the only other person not on a mission, and he was pining over Quatre more than focusing on what was going on) Wu had made me pinky-swear not to tell anyone. Well, more he had said that 'on your honour, as a fellow soldier, you should not tell' and Duo was the one who suggested the pinky-swear, which he reluctantly agreed too. That soft touch was a feeling Duo never forgot, nor the vulnerability of Wu naked from the shower, or even how the small grey hairs made him seem distinguished, like when he put on those glasses when he was studying or had to concentrate hard.

So my doctor was older than he seemed, though probably younger than Howard and most of the other doctors Duo knew, apart from Sally. Maybe even an ex-soldier working medical, which would explain more his interest in the pilots, and the ease to build something like this cage, without apparent help. Duo could imagine a doomsday room turned into a trap for a pilot - Duo, in particular.

He didn't waste time, or say much once he was inside the cage. He warned Duo just once that there was no way to escape - that if he had even managed to get free, there were two rotties upstairs that would rip me limb from limb, trained to destroy intruders as was the right of people on L2 - to keep dangerous dogs to protect their life and property. Then he undid one heavy cuff and attached the free cuff to the bars, so Duo had one arm free. Duo experimentally flexed it - it felt tingly, perhaps to be expected after several days wearing in them and even sleeping them.

"That's it, good," his voice purred a little. "Get the blood back flowing, because I'm going to take it out soon. I imagine a pint or two* should be sufficient. You may be a bit light headed and even a little sick for the rest of the afternoon, but it shall pass. I will leave you enriched water."

Duo was oh, so tired of asking questions, mainly because none of them had gotten answers he had wanted so far. He didn't want to ask why so much, or what the water was enriched with. But the silence was begging a question to be asked, and Duo wasn't used to being quiet for so long.

"Is the needle clean?"

A simple question, but an essential one. Duo had every hope, every wish, every dream of getting out of here alive and not hurt in the long run - he didn't want to risk some disease passed by a needle he didn't even want inside of my skin.

"Of course. Fresh out of a sterile packet. I'll open it up in front of you, if you like. Besides, there's no need to risk contaminating the result. This is the...testing round, if you'd like. If you and all your little pathogens still show a resistance to the plague, then you're through to the next round. If not, well, we have to bid you farewell." He gave me a grin.

Duo must have paled, or trembled, or something, because there was something about my body language that somehow gave him away right then.

"Oh, calm down. We can't have the marvellous Duo Maxwell shot in the head and unloaded in some ditch. I'll transport you to Earth at my own expense, where your ex-colleagues are waiting for you."

Duo swallowed drily. What did they have to do this? Was him mentioning them good or bad? His heart raced. Duo couldn't see how they would manage to put him up to this or why they would want to.

"Nothing exciting, I'm afraid," the man stretched himself out a little and reached out for his doctor's bag, pulling out a needle in sterile packaging. "They're...hm, how are the press putting it? 'Effectively imprisoned by request of the Queen and court'." He concluded with a little nod as he recalled it.

Duo drew my arm back so the doctor had no chance of getting blood from it until he answered some more questions. "Wait, what? What do you mean, imprisoned?!" When he had left, it had been party after party but there had been plans to go back to normal. If anyone, Duo was the only one without a plan - what had happened after he had left that had meant prison for everyone else? Thoughts burst into my head of the four of them stealing Gundams to go and find him - of them convinced that Relena, who had never been that keen on me, had somehow 'got rid' of him, and trashing the palace. Selfish thinking, sure, but he was the only thing that had changed between them all making plans to move on was Duo disappearing.

The man sighed, looking at my arm. "This would be a lot easier out of the inside of your elbow, truly. But it's not the only place with veins. There's your neck, though I'd imagine it would hurt and the bruising would be hell; there's in between your toes but you've had those skanky shoes and socks on for so long that you probably have trench foot, at best... Then there's your lovely little groin, I'm sure that's not such an alien place for a little prick, I've heard the best rumours about pretty boys from L2."

Duo growled and kicked him in my cuffed feet, right in between his chest. He didn't get much of a pull back and it probably didn't hurt too much, but for a moment it knocked the wind out of the doctor and all all he could do was gasp. There was no point trying to make a run for it. Even if he could leap over the lanky body in my way with his ankles in cuffs, then somehow stumble the length of the basement and get up the stairs - and the guy wasn't even knocked out, just momentarily out of breath.

By the time he had thought of even trying that method of escape, the man had recovered, his eyes darkened. "We can talk and work," he said, calmly, and Duo was suddenly aware that it was going to be closer to two pints than one, just for that. "Your...friends, or ex-colleagues, whatever you think of them as, are being held in a house on Earth not far from the palace. They share a bedroom between two - can you imagine the insane heat? Especially between that tall circus fellow and the little Arabian - I read in 'Hey!'** that they're quite the loving couple. Not sure how much they'll be getting up to, having a guard each though."

As he spoke, he was using a cable tie to attach Duo's wrist to the bar, to keep a tension and keep the vein enlarged on the inside of his arm. He was very practised, trying off the top of Duo's arm and cleaning the incision point with cold, brown disinfectant and waiting for a few seconds before gently petting it dry.

"I read there was a rebellion one night, one of the first nights. Some photographer in the bushes saw it all - three of your buddies standing up against something, and all four of them getting tasered until they collapsed. I wonder how much tasering they took. I wonder how much you could take. ...But that's an experiment for another day." He added, almost dreamily.

He unwrapped the needle in front of Duo, like he said he would do, and attached it to a syringe, drawing blood first. "Good, good." He murmured, softly. Duo was still trying to take this all in, and shook my head distractedly. "...What's their charge?"Duo asked, quietly. He knew it had been a fear all of them shared - laws could be broken even with war going on, but he was finding it hard to pinpoint what would require that kind of guarding, and agreed by Queen Relena herself as well.

"Ohhh, who knows," the man gave a languid shrug. "You guys probably broke a ton of peace treaty laws, killed unarmed civilians, refused to give up when faced with Earth's official armies - any one of those would be enough for prison." He was setting up the bag now to take my blood, putting it in a machine to rock it gently and prevent clotting. Duo was never squeamish - it was more than an essential factor for being a pilot - but seeing his own blood leaving his body was surreal and unnerving. That could have been the days without food, very little water, and drugs that could be doing god knows what to his body.

"But you said they're not in prison," Duo pressed, focusing on anything else. The doctor nodded, binning his purple gloves and putting his sharps away in a little disposable box. Maybe he really did care about health and safety - at least of himself. "No." The doctor responded, simply. "They're as close to prison as they could be. In my opinion, that's probably for their own opinion and to the cost of the tax pay trying to keep Gundam Pilots under lock and key - I believe they think if they offer them enough home comforts and freedoms as possible, without going outside, there will be less escape attempts until the Court has made its finial decision."

There was that name of that alien group of people Duo didn't know. They may well be OZ, as well as I know. "The Court? What are they deciding, exactly?" Duo stared blankly at the wall and let him check his pupils and blood pressure, despite the fact he could control both to make him think anything Duo wanted. For now, just tired, he them be what they were. Regardless, he was the guy in charge of his health and medication - if there really was something wrong, he wanted it fixed. Or at least dumped at the nearest medical unit with a note.

"Why, the whole of what you did wrong. What charges can be dropped - what murders were essential, what unneeded civilian deaths occurred, how long you'll get in prison properly, with time served. I don't know how they're figuring about you. I guess it depends what happens when you're dropped back on Earth, when I am done with you. Maybe they'll figure you've served your time and then some. Maybe they'll shut your with your buddies doing 20 to life in general population. I'm not a lawyer." The man shrugged as if that were a whole lot of nothing, not 5 young teens who had saved the earth and the colonies from the biggest threat they had known.

Duo started to shift, his stomach churning. He didn't know if it was the blood he was losing, the hunger, or the threat of his friends doing '20 to life' in prison, but he suddenly didn't feel well. "I feel a bit sick," He mumbled, and he must have sounded it or looked it, because the doctor thrust the piss bowl - luckily unused - in front of Duo.

Duo threw up until it was green bile then dry heaves, and the doctor barely looked at him. He moved once to change the bag to the next pint, but apart from that, he offered no comfort. Duo's hair was covered in spit and stringy vomit, and his mouth felt foul. He tried to reach out for the water, tainted or not, and the doctor did pass it over, and Duo mainly swilled and spit before drinking half of it in one go.

"It will fix what ails you, and help you sleep." The doctor said, simply, finally unplugging me and pressing a tissue against the wound until it stopped bleeding and he wrapped a bandage around Duo's arm. He didn't care what the doctor said just then. Duo didn't care what the water did then. His arm hurt, and so did his stomach, and the room swam. The doctor was careful to recuff Duo after freeing his arm from the bars, and tided up after himself before creeping out of the room.

"Goodnight, sweet prince."

Duo couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. He couldn't care. All he could do was sleep, and dream...

_* In the UK, where you don't get paid for donating your blood (just as a small aside!) you can only donate between once ever 4 - 6 months depending on your health and other things such as tattoos. The UK Blood Association will never take more than a 470ml, which is just under a pint, and even that in some seemingly healthy people can cause generally feeling unwell, fainting, and vomiting._

_(Also, these things are very rare, so if you can, PLEASE become a blood donor! I gave blood ten times before my medications meant I couldn't do it, and I intend to start doing it again as soon as I can. It really can save a life and - in the UK - you can sign up and book up online). _

_** "Hey!" is a parody of a magazine in the UK called "Hello!" which is full of general popular culture rubbish which may or may not be true, such as who is getting married to who. Just gossipy trash, even if they happened to get the Trowa and Quatre thing right on this occasion!_

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	8. My Thoughts are Trying to Escape

My ramblings-

_**Hi guys! This is kind of from Duo's perspective but it's in third person and it's all a dream (which is made clear by the first line).**_

_**Same warnings as before - some dudes like other dudes, there's some very light sexual/affection attraction going on but nothing detailed. No swear, no violence, some very light medical mentioning. **_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 8 - My Thoughts are Trying to Escape - Because I can't**

He dreamt.

At least, he believed he dreamt.

The world flooded in and out, and there was an occasional bright light shining in his eyes he pushed away with one hand, He heard heavy laughter and something about 'this one's a strong one!' before he felt his arm gently sliced open and something flat placed inside. An IV? Maybe. Maybe OZ had captured him! Where were the others; were they safe? He sleepily pushed away the glowing torch and the hand that held it until he finally fell into a deeper stage of sleep.

Wufei was meditating. Duo knew it must have been a dream then because the room was positively tiny and he was without the bamboo rug and meditation stool that he had treated himself to immediately when the war was over. His room in the palace had been much bigger and grander, and Duo decided even if he was dreaming of some future Wufei, he would have afforded a much better place; maybe in China, his spiritual home.

If Duo thought and forced himself to do as he wished in the dream, he could get closer to Wu. Close enough to see the greys. Close enough to remember the pinky-promise, close enough to touch the hands that rested palm up. The skin was cold, rough. Not the touch of the million times he had playfully touched Wufei before, to wind him up. At the touch, the ghostly breeze, Wufei's shoulders tensed but he didn't move nor speak.

Something was wrong. He didn't know what. Wufei was frowning, he could see that, little lines Duo wanted to gently push away - give him a head massage, which he had managed to do on two separate occasions despite the man's protests. But Wufei never frowned during meditation.

He had tried to teach them all, once. It was Winter, and with most of the battleground frozen over, even OZ wasn't taking a risk. So they were stuck in an abandoned but well serviceable safehouse - clean, once Quatre had done his thing. It had been the third day and although they weren't hungry or tired or injured, they were bored, and they were just discovering how most 15 year olds felt on a day to day basis - shoved in a place they didn't want to be, such as a school, with their only discomfort normally being boredom.

Of course, boredom was a luxury to the pilots, but Quatre announced after a thorough search, with Trowa at his side (which seemed to take 20 minutes longer than it needed to, and included their room with the massive king-size bed and a colour on Quatre's face that was similar to a tomato) there wasn't even a pack of cards around.

Heero grumbled something into his laptop - even he had to have run out of things to do. Duo remembered whining and practically throwing himself on the floor like a kid having a tantrum. Only Wufei seemed unaffected by the boredom and Duo had rolled onto his stomach to look at him. "How come you aren't going mad with boredom, Wuffies?"

He, of course, earned a narrow eyed glare. "I can teach you if you want." His face flushed a little bit. "Meditation, of course. All of you. This room is perfect."

He was right. They each grabbed a cushion from the sofas to sit on and Wufei sat in front of the fire, motioning them all into a circle. Eventually they were all fairly comfortable - even Heero closed down his laptop - and Quatre was sitting within an inch of Trowa, claiming that his cushion wasn't big enough.

"Okay, first...try to sit like this. It's called the 'Lotus position'," he demonstrated a position that made his legs look like pretzels. Of course, Trowa got it easy, and Heero managed after a moment, but even with Trowa's help (tomato-coloured face again) Quatre couldn't do it, and Duo couldn't even get close, so him and Quatre were granted 'permission' to sit simply cross-legged.

"The position is important, but don't focus too much on getting it perfect - being comfortable is more important," Wufei instructed, nodding a little. "Now, clear your mind. Just forget everything. I know it's hard, but we're pretty safe, and we're all here. ...We with the war how it is, that's all we can ask for, right?"

Everyone nodded, and Wufei instructed them to take a deep breath, leave their worries, and close their eyes. It was dark in there, and Duo couldn't stop his thoughts. What was everyone else doing? He half opened an eye and saw Wufei watching them, still in Lotus, palms up. He shook his head at Duo and he closed his eyes again.

It was hard, to kill his thoughts. Hell, if he knew he was going to be tested like this, then he wouldn't have had as much as that great, cheap coffee the kitchen was stocked with. Eventually, he heard Wufei get up, whispering - telling Trowa that he had great posture; gently correcting Quatre's hand position, explaining they were letting in good energy by having the palms up, and just muttering 'perfect' to Heero, because of course. But when he got to Duo, he gently ran a thumb against his forehead and Duo nearly fell backwards at the unexpected contact but managed to calm himself, imagining he was in 'Sychthe and he had just been unexpectedly hit. That helped him steady himself.

"We don't frown," Wufei had said, softly. "Meditation is about clearing the mind...creases in the forehead are like thoughts trying to escape into the world. That's not the aim."

At the time, Duo had snorted and blown it off at Wufei choosing to pick on him - surely one of the others had been frowning, too - but he had tried to stop the thoughts. It may have been impossible for the hyperactive teen, but every time he had seen Wufei meditate, he had never seen him frown, not once.

His forehead had been so smooth, so pale, not a hair out of place. When he started to unfold and opened his eyes, there was a brief frown, something of a scowl - maybe because Duo was watching him - but he had never frowned during meditation.

Apart from now.

_My thoughts are trying to escape - because I can't._

The ghostly voice didn't scare or unnerve Duo too much - this was all a dream. It was all a dream, and it was all based on what he had seen before and...who he wanted to be with. This room was alien, small and cold, but Wufei was a friend, a friend who wasn't quite right.

As Duo floated there - in his dreams he always floated; he associated it with something to do with space - Heero came into the room. Heero and Wufei sharing a room was a rarity, but nothing too unusual.

"_They're not letting us go any time soon."_

Heero's voice, strong as ever, as if he were in the cage with the sedated Duo. Heero had no issue with interrupting Wufei's meditation - and Wufei honestly didn't seem to mind, unlike when Duo bounded into the room. Wufei's eyes opened and his eyes squinted - they were tired, they needed his glasses, Wufei always needed his glasses when he was tired.

"_I know that, Yuy. I've made my peace with it. We'll be free if the Courts decide our actions were justifiable - I imagine we'll end up somewhere much worse than this if they decide any of our actions were without merit, even during war. There was a lot of injustice from both sides."_

To hear his voice was beautiful. It was a dream, and he knew it was a dream based on what the doctor had told him - that they were trapped in some house, that they were prisoners, that they were waiting on some Court, probably formed after the war to deal with high ranking soldiers - and the pilots.

Wufei got up and Duo could feel himself being pulled away. No, no, no! He didn't care the room was cold and they were trapped - he wasn't alone. He was with comrades; people who understood him. People who didn't put him in a cage, people who didn't steal his blood and give him tainted water.

'No, please...' He felt himself thinking as he started to stir from his unconscious state. 'Let me stay. It was a dream and it was imperfect, but they were there. Let me stay..'

He must have spoken the last bit out loud. The doctor was in the room, shoving something in his other inner arm. "Stay? Of course you're staying. The first blood test showed very positive elements of the antibodies needed to make the vaccine. You're staying as long as I need you to."

Duo turned his head dully to his the side, eyes moist with tears he refused to let fall. He had been there. So close he could literally touch. Literally feel Wufei, even if he couldn't really feel him. All he could hope was the doctor kept him sedated, so he could keep dreaming, so he could keep seeing them. If he kept asking of news of his comrades every day, then they would be in his dreams every day - Quatre making dinner, Trowa nearby to dutifuly hand him knives, Wufei meditating, Heero marching about with that scowl on his face... He just had to make it happen.

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><p>To be continued<p> 


	9. Brothers-in-arms

My ramblings -

_Another chapter, yay. Back with Wufei, and a little bit of filler content to help with the atmosphere after the fight, and to show how much some characters have already moved on or changed since the war._

_**Same warnings as before - some dudes like other dudes. This chapter has no to little swearing, no violence, just mentioning of blood and some other...non-sexual body fluids.**_

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><p><span>Some Things Don't Need To Be Said<span>

**Chapter 9 - Brothers-in-arms**

After the fight - or the beating, as neither of my colleagues fought back - things were oddly calm.

I was taken into the bathroom and locked in - I could have easily broken the lock, but I really needed the time to myself right then, and I didn't want the punishment of a taser, or worse.

So I sat myself down on the uncomfortable bathroom rug and relaxed into Lotus position, focusing on my breathing. Taking myself into a meditative state was, non-surprisingly, a lot harder after the adrenalin rush of a fight. Focusing on calming my breathing and heart was mostly what I did - rather than transporting myself to some Eden, green and beautiful like L5, I was just aware of being in the bathroom, and breathing.

I was aware of the pain in my bruised knuckles and the blood still on the back of my hand. I was aware of the noise outside - mostly the guards muttering and occasionally snapping a surname for reasons unknown to me. I was aware when they escorted Yuy downstairs because I could hear his footsteps and his still quiet swearing in Japanese, because it probably hurt like a bitch to walk.

Good.

I couldn't meditate as fully as I wanted to, but I had time and space to think. What would they do to us now? Room-wise, there was no combination that wouldn't cause either arguing or fucking, but I guessed they didn't care so much about sex, so maybe I would be put in the same room as Winner.

That would be tough. I still didn't know how he was faring and what he felt about what I did - if he felt his partner deserved it, but maybe he would have liked to do it himself, or try talking; that was a lot more like Winner, and Burton would dutifully agree, but surely as long as Yuy was around, he would always be a temptation. I doubted, from what I saw so briefly, that it was the first time.

After that, I didn't think of much. I didn't get to my Eden, but I didn't deserve to - I deserved mindfulness, and that meant being aware of my physical pain and the confusing mixture of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm me. There were points where I nearly 'freaked out', as Maxwell would have said, but I kept my control.

With my eyes shut and no clock at my disposal, I didn't know how long had passed. An hour - maybe two. I had a feeling this wasn't punishment - just keeping me under lock and key. What more punishment could they do anyway? I'm sure if there was some sort of psych evaluation before we stood in front of the Court, this would be brought up - but beyond that, I wasn't sure if anything else would happen.

Eventually, the lock turned and someone yanked me up by the collar, which surprised me so much that the guard was lucky he didn't get a suddenly strike to the face. But I managed to control myself and remember where I was - and the ramifications for hitting a guard.

I raised my hands to show surrender once more, and I was dragged from the room and, to my surprise, back into my room, rather than the other room as I had expected. The guard commanded me to sit on the bed and I did, staring at him, not letting his power get to me. It was hard to do when not stranding straight, but essential in situations like this.

"Now, boy," I could feel myself bristle at the term but I said nothing, just kept watching. "I don't know what that fight was about, and I quite frankly don't want to know. Sometimes in this place it's like guarding a zoo of horny chimps." There was another guard at the door, presumably making sure I couldn't make a run for it and no-one would come in either, and he sniggered at this apparent joke.

"To be honest, we expected more from the great Gundam pilots. Fighting, maybe, but not with each other. You've hardly put up any resistance at all - I guess you're not so strong without Gundaminam alloy all around you and weapons up your sleeves. At the end of the day, you're just kids. So that's how you're going to be treated from now on - like kids. You'll do as we say, when we say it."

I tensed up but tried to think of anything else with all the insults thrown around me. My Eden was floating away, impossible to reach, something closer, something more real - Maxwell. If Maxwell were here, he would be trying to get into the room despite the armed guard and yelling my case, that they deserved it. I hadn't really thought about it much before, but Maxwell always had my back during the war and despite our...little tiffs, he always agreed and supported me when it mattered. Like now. I felt my shoulders slump and I closed my eyes, rubbing at my temples.

The guard snorted."You think you've got it bad with a headache when you gave one of your so-called friends a broken nose, and the other...well, best not describe it, but we both know what you did and as blokes, we both know how you damaged his pride as much as anything physical."

I listened to him witter on, but I wasn't really listening. My head was starting to hurt, badly - this was no headache, it was one of the migraines I was prone to when I was stressed and when I didn't use my glasses enough - I guessed they were downstairs on the kitchen table. I felt the familiar pull of nausea and winced. These spells always came on rather quickly, and the guards didn't keep the sumatriptan* on them that Sally had prescribed of me. Two of those and lying in a dark room for an hour or so made me feel better. The paracetamol they would offer wouldn't help, but maybe I could convince them to make it dark for a bit.

"I am...sorry, for what I did. And I will apologise to my colleagues, in time. But right now, I am starting to get a migraine. If you look at my notes, it does mention this, and that you have to phone Dr. Sally Po so she can bring my prescription around."

I tried to explain with patience and politeness, but my stomach was churning and the room was swimming. The guard grunted. "Anything so you don't have lift a finger in cleaning up the mess you made, huh? There's blood everywhere, and a tea stain on the carpet - do you think we're going to clean it up, huh?"

He was worried about stains on the carpet? If he wasn't careful, there was going to be another stain. I swallowed hard and pressed a hand to my forehead. "Sir," I addressed, patiently. "I...feel very unwell, and I need to get to the bathroom. You can guard or escort me, or whatever you would like, but I do need to get there."

The guard gave a laugh, and the one on the door echoed him. "It must suck, Chang, that we have power over you, and this is your more vulnerable moment, and this is when you need me to say yes, and...well, I just don't know."

I tried to turn my head. I really did. But I couldn't focus on keeping my nausea down, and I couldn't turn my head in time as I vomited onto the guard's military boots and the floor. He was lucky he wasn't closer, let's just say that.

I wasn't proud. In fact, my eyes were streaming and I could barely breathe, with mucus coming out of my nose; I was disgusted at myself. But I had warned the man, very clearly, and we could have made it in time. The guard growled and instantly stood. "You did that on purpose!" He accused, as if I could do that at will. I couldn't reply, with my throat raggedly sore and my head pounding. All I could do was shake it, and even then the way the room span made me feel worse.

The guard growled and quick marched away from me. "Peterson, with me. Leave Chang to clean up the mess. They need us downstairs to keep the rest separate and our friend here isn't going anywhere."

They marched down the stairs, leaving the bedroom door wide open. I desperately wanted to get to it and close it, and the curtains too, but any sort of moving and the room span. I could barely breathe and I couldn't see if there were tissues to clean myself up with. This was my punishment, some sort of karma, for what I did.

All I could do was sit there, and shake. I never normally shook after an episode, but this one had been particularly bad and I didn't even have low grade painkillers to help me. I kept trying to lie on my side but the room would spin and I would nearly throw up again, so sitting straight up on the bed, shaking, was all I felt I could do.

I didn't know how long had past until there was a small knock at the door. I looked up, expecting to see maybe one of the more timid female guards with cleaning supplies, but it was actually Yuy. Yuy, knocking on an open door, not charging over to me after what I did to him.

He stepped in the room - which was, technically, still his too - and looked me up and down. "We saw the vomit on the guard's boots," he explained, voice more gruff than usual from my earlier behaviour. "I...remembered about your migraines and what you told us about them. They wouldn't let me phone Sally, but..."

I realised then he was holding out a glass of water and two small pills. I took them, hands shaking, my teeth chattering against the glass as I forced the low grade painkillers down.

"...Thank you, Yuy," I finally said, my own voice hoarse from throwing up. "You...didn't need to. None of you had to, but...especially you."

Yuy paused, then shook his head. "What I did was very wrong. It...wasn't the first time, as I'm sure you guessed. We both deserved what we got - but I'd avoid Trowa right now, he doesn't feel quite as apologetic as me." He added, with what looked to be a small smile.

He stopped talking and went over to my duffel bag. I tried to stand up to prevent him from whatever he was going to do, but the dizziness overwhelmed me and I fell back onto the bed, grimacing as multicoloured stars flashed in front of my vision. "...What...what are you doing?" I called out, unable to see or stop him.

He was at my side suddenly - it probably only felt sudden as I had been unable to look up - and placed some folded clothes at my side. "Clean clothes," he explained. "Your's are filthy even by pilot standards...blood and vomit isn't a good look on you, Wufei."

I turned my head so slowly, then opened my eyes to see they were the green silk PJs that I had bought when we still had our freedom. They had quickly become a favourite for lazy days reading or doing occasional work in my journal. Just seeing them made me feel better.

"...Thank you, Yu- ...Heero." I corrected and there was definitely a smile on his face this time. "I do...need your help though." I confessed, even my voice trembling. "If I move too much, I...get rather dizzy." Heero nodded, as if he had known this was to be the case. "Okay. Just sit still for a moment, let's take things slowly. I'll be back." He promised, leaving the bedroom.

By the time he had returned I had managed to take off my top - luckily just a lounge around top that could now be chucked, since it was so stained; come to think of it, the size and colour was more reminiscent of Maxwell than myself, but he wasn't around to be devastated that his black 'Rock 'n Roller' top had been disposed of.

Yuy was holding a tray that had a cup of tea, a small bowl of water, and a wash cloth on it. He came to my side and put the tray on a nearby table. "First, let's clean you up. That'll make you feel a little better." He said, softly. I wondered where he had got this sudden compassion and nursing skills from, then remembered his time with Trowa - maybe even in his half concious state, the perfect soldier had been able to pick up some tips.

He wet the wash cloth and gently cleaned my face. The water was so cool and my face warm - he pressed the cloth to my forehead for a moment and for a second everything was in balance. When he took it away, I found myself mumbling, "don't stop..."

Yuy nodded reassuringly. "Once we get you comfy, I'll leave it on your forehead. Without the pills, that's as much as we can do." He said, a little downheartedly. "You keep saying 'we'," I pointed out, as he gently cleaned my chest and then both my hands, ridding them of the blood but not the deserved bruises.

"Well, when...we all noticed the vomit, Quatre was the one who figured out what happened and was able to tune into you, or whatever he calls it. He sensed you needed help and he wanted to go, but he also wanted to stay with Trowa. So...I think I came up here for all of us, not just me." He clarified, clearly putting a lot of concentrating into explaining it all.

I nodded and regretted it instantly, closing my eyes tight. In response, Yuy drew the curtains, which helped a little. With my eyes still closed, I felt him very gently putting the PJ shirt on me, the comfortable and cool silk instantly reassuring and making me feel closer to L5. Maybe once this migraine simmered down, I could use the feeling of the material to make it to L5, even just in my head.

I insisted on doing the buttons up, even though my hands were shaking and my eyes were swimming. On the second attempt I did them all up correctly, and then blushed as Yuy moved to my fly. "Relax, Wufei," his tone was slightly teasing, "I don't fuck just anyone. You're just a bit too shaky to do it yourself, so let me help."

I nodded and swallowed as he carefully took off my pants. "I wish you could have a bath - that would probably help. But you couldn't do it on your own right now, and of course you don't want the guards in there." I nodded in agreement as Yuy gently helped me put my pants on, thankfully elesticated so no more embarassment with a brush of his hand on my fly. He took my socks off last, and then gently helped lay me down on on the bed, supporting much of my weight until I was lying as comfortably as I could.

"Quatre helped me make up the tea you have when you have a migraine. I hope it helps. I...also bought you some dried toast, because you're not meant to take pills on en empty stomach, but you can leave it if it's too much." He informed me, gruffly. He then took a straw from the tray and put it in the tea, so I barely had to lift my head to drink. I drank a little and when I pulled away, Yuy gently put the cold cloth on my forehead.

"I've...told the guards you're vomiting a lot so they won't come in here." He explained, then, as if reminding himself of something, he dragged an empty bin to the side of the bed. "I'll keep trying to get them to let me phone Sally; say you're getting worse or something. I know how much those pills help." He took one more glance around the room and, most importantly, at me, then nodded, as if satisfied with a job well done.

He turned to leave and I watched him, quiet, then I finally spoke. "What I did to you...and to Burton...it was unjust. It was not my problem to solve. But this place is so small, and Winner was hurting. I overreacted, and I'm sorry. Can you please...pass that on to Burton?"

Yuy gave a slight nod. "It's in the past. Like I said, Trowa may have forgiven you but he's not in the greatest of moods - I doubt it's an issue if you're going to be stuck in here for the rest of the day."

I nodded in agreement and closed my eyes.

"...Thank you, Yuy, for not deserting me when I needed it most. You are a true brother in arms."

He didn't say anything, but I heard the door softly close as he left, and I tried to meditate myself back to Eden.

_*Sumatriptan is a real drug for migraines, which I take myself. I think you can get a weaker version mixed in with other painkillers over the counter in the UK, but you can only get the pure stuff from the doctor. You take one at the first sign of a migraine - if it seems to work, you take another one. If it doesn't, you don't. ...I know, I don't get the science behind it either. But you can take all other painkillers with it too. Poor Wuffies. Migraines suck. _

* * *

><p>To be continued<p> 


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